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Entered according to Aft of Congress, 

in the year 1892, by 

LOUIS M. GRICE, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, 

at Washington, D. C. 



CONTENTS. 

A Daughter of Athens, 6 

To a Rose, 7^ 

The Fairy Queen, 77 

Trailing Arbutus, 79 

Lilian, So 

The Lover's Call, So 

The Brightest Orbs, 8r 

Sleep, S2 

Dawn, 82 

Twilight, S3 

Night, 83 

The Deserted Castle, ^4 

Twilight Meditation. 86 

An Ocean Myth. 87 

Vespers. 88 

A Landscape on the Niagara, 88 

A Summer Nigiit, 89 

Tiie Ruined Nunnery, 91 

Farewell, 93 

Christmas Chimes, 94 

The Dying Tecumseh, 95 

To an English Lady, 97 

A Sylvan Scene, 97 

My Ideal, 99 

Christmas Wanderings, 99 

Tiie Ocean, loi 

Wolfe, 102 

A Serenade, 103 

Phases of a Night, 104 

Winter, 105 

Retribution, 107 

Rose. 109 

Death, 112 

A Violet, - 113 

The Lake, 114 



A Wish. 



115 



The New Year, 115 

Reality, 116 



A 
DRVOfiTBH OF flT^EflS. 



A 

DRVOHTHH of flT^EflS. 
A Tragedy, in Five Acts. 



DRAMATIS PERSONyE. 

Barisas, an Aihenian general. 

Orestes, an Athenian captain. 

Lycurgus, an Athenian soldier. 

Arcite, a captain of the Athenian guard. 

Alones, a soldier of the Aihenian guard. 

Eponymos of Athens. 

Leander, a Spartan general. 

Zelotes, Leander's lieutenant. 

Harmonis, a Spartan captain. 

Artemas, I ^ , 

„ f Spartan guards. 

Theron, \ ^ *=* 

Amphion, a Spartan messenger. 
Myra, sister to Orestes. 
Eunice, Myra's handmaiden. 

Citizens and Soldiers. 

Scene: — Athens and environs. 

TiMEr — Close of the Peloponnesian War, B. C. 404. 



DAUGHTEI^ OF ATHEflS. * 

ACT I. 

Scene I. A public place m Athens, before the Acropolis. 
Barisas and Orestes discovered in conversation. 

Bari. Orestes, hearken, knowest thou that I 
Have sought to gain with words of deepest faith, 
Thy sister's hand in marriage for the love 
That like a quenchless flame within my heart 
Burns with a fire that consumes my soul? 
And knowest thou, thy sister who hath naught 
But matchless beauty and a form divine 
To make her worthy in a great man's eyes, 
Rejeds my suit with coM and scornful words, 
And doth assume a most disdainful mien, 
Which her position strangely doth belie? 

Ores. Although my sister never has possessed 
Tiie means to make the glitter and the show — 
The pomp that marked the wantons of the state 
Ere this dread siege proved all was vanity; 
Yet, still she is a lady born and bred; 
And by Apollo! I esteem her fit 
For any man who calls himself a Greek, 
Though he were greatest of our honored state: 
Yet, will I thank thee for the honor thou 
Hast done my sister, but since 'tis her will 
To look with cold disfavor on thy suit, 
I can do naught but state my vain regrets. 

Bari. In spite of this cold manner she assumes, 
She must be mine. 

Ores. What dost thou mean by that? 

Bari. I mean that thou shalt force her to consent. 



8 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Orrs. Thou dost forget, it is not of my slave, 
But of my sister that you speak, Barisas. 

Bari. And what of that? Wouldst thou not have her wed 
Unto a man whose name would be the charm 
To guide thee on to fortune and to fame? 

Ores. If I should prove so base, as to be moved 
By all the bribes corruption could conceive, 
To violence do unto my sister's trust; 
Then might the gods, in justice, on my head 
Hurl thunderbolts of vengeance fraught with death. 

Bari. Take heed, Orestes, thou shalt rue thy words. 

Ores. The words that duty prompts I'll never rue. 

Bari. Thy duty should impel thee to persuade 
Thy sister to a marriage with thy chief, 
Aiad if persuasion failed to have effed, 
Thou shouldst compel. 

Ores, That will I never do. 

She shall alone be keeper of her heart. 

Bari. Thou wilt not aid me, then? 

Ores. Nay! If thy love 

Can strike no chord responsive in the breast 
Of her whom thou wouldst win, I wi)l not seek 
To plead thy suit; 'twould be of no avail. 

Bari. Thou art unruly, as thy sister is. 
But I will not be foiled; for though I must 
Upon my own devices now depend, 
I'll conquer her, and she shall be my bride. 

Ores. Herself alone shall rule the issue there. 
And woe to him who seeks her injury. 

Bari. Have done with this: and now to other things 
Of more immediate nature to us both. 
We have received important news to day, 
Of an attack the Spartans contemplate 
Upon the city; and this bold assault 
Ts to be led and marshalled by Leander, 
The youngest chief who under yEgis serves; 
Yet, brave is he, and skilled in arts of war; 
And, it is said, he hath been given aid 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 9. 

By Alcibiades, whom I believe . 

Would fain rule Athens with a tyrant's sway. 

I could not learn the plan of this attack, 

But I do fear Leander has conceived 

Some way to crush us with his Spartan host; 

And therefore, to avert the threatened blow 

Impending o'er us like the frown of Ares,' 

It is determined this bold chief must die. 

The dagger is the only means we have 

By which to reach him; hence it must be made 

The instrument of his destruction. 

Ores. How 

Could it assist us were Leander dead? 
Lysandros blocks Piraeus with his fleet: 
Defeat must come although it be delayed; 
For even now the who'e of Athens groans 
With misery, and grim starvation stalks 
A gaunt, death-breathing phantom through her streets. 

Bari. So long as we can hold the foe at bay, 
We are unconquered, unabased, and this 
Makes every moment we withstand defeat, 
A period of honor. Every chance 
That offers Athens one more day's reprieve 
From the invader, should be gladly seized. 
What true Athenian would not bow his head 
Unto the conquest of the monarch death, 
Rather than to the Spartan? When we fall, 
'Twill be when Athens cannot raise her arm 
To strike another blow. 

Ores, My thoughts were turned 

Unto our women and our aged men, 
And all the sufferings they must endure. 

Bari. True, they must suffer; wherefore should they not? 
The members of a state must bear her ills, 
As they do share her joys; without regard 
To sex or age. 

Ores. Thy words are full of truth— 

And many women would for Athens die, 



lO. A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

If they could serve her thus; yet woful 'tis 
To see them slowly starving in our homes. 

Bar I. 'Twonld be more woful — harder to endure, 
To see them ravished by vitlorious foes. 

Ores. You stir my soul with rage, 

Rari. Seek not to quel 

Its rising- passion, for 'twill give thee strength 
To strike Leander's death-blow; for the deed 
I have assigned to thee. It must be done 
Ere three more days are numbered with the past. 

Ores. What! I have been selected for the deed? 

Bari. Thou hast, Orestes, and thy life may be 
In forfeit paid; but you must look to that. 
Thou hast thine orders. Be thy work well done. 

Ores. When thus commanded I can but obey; 
Yet would I rather meet this Spartan chief 
In open warfare, for so brave a man 
Is worthy of a nobler mode of death 
Than by an unseen dagger can be dealt. 
Perchance 'twill be within the slumbering camp, 
When watch-fires glimmer with uncertain glow 
Half in defiance to the dusky shades 
That night doth gather from the lap of space; 
As brave Leander, in the realm of dreams, 
Beholds his martial glory at its height, 
That my sharp-bladed dagger shall descend 
To shatter all with one death-dealing blow. 
It seems a pity, ay, it does, indeed. 

Bari. It rather seems thy heart is weak with fear. 
If thou wert now the brother of my wife 
I might relieve thee of this dangerous work. 

Ores. Barisas, you mistake me, 'tis not fear 
That moves my heart, but pity, nothing more. 
When Athens needs a dagger she will find 
This hand will tremble not to grasp its hilt: 
Nor will my heart refuse to nerve my a rm 
To deeds of death, although I have to pass 
Through burning Hades to fulfil my work. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 11. 

T atn a soldier, and a soldier's life 
Must be like foam upon a billow's crest, 
Tossed by the changing of the reckless tides 
Till to oblivion by tempests hurled. 

Bart. 'Tis well. To-night when shadows congregate 
To lend concealment to the darkest deeds, 
Thou shalt go forth, a messenger of doom. 

Ores. So be it. Zeus lead me to success. 
Now will I leave thee till the evening falls, 
For ere upon my journey I depart, 
I must unto my sister say farewell; 
For who can tell, we ne'er may meet again? 

Exit Orestes. 

Rakt. Ay, go, thou fool! And bid thy last farewell 
Unto thy sister; for the last 'twill be, 
Unless, perchance she yet consents to buy ' 

With her fair self, thy safety and thy life; 
For if this threat will not her spirit bend. 
And win my suit where softer words have failed, 
Thou shalt, Orestes, go unto thy death; 
For if thou canst escape the Spartan swords, 
Then art thou more than mortal. Thou wilt die. 
And I another way will find to woo, 
Where kisses and caresses shall be free 
And many, though they be the fruit of force. 
Ah, lovely Myra, cold and scornful maid. 
So passionless and yet so beautiful, 
Thy haughty glance, although so fraught with pride, 
Fiikindles in my heart the flames of love; 
Thou shalt be mine with all thy glorious charms: 
l>y Aphrodite's girdle do I swear. 

Enter Lycurgus. 
T.vcurgus. ho! Thou art the very man 
\\'hnm I do most desire to behold. 
Thou knowest Myra, sister to Orestes? 

Lycur. T do, Barisas, and by all the light 
That shines with splendor from her lustrous eyes, 
She is the fiirest maid in Athens. 



12 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Bari. True, 

But thou dost speak as though thy heart did feel 
The fires of a deeply burning love 
That only eyes like Myra's can inspire. 

Lycur. Nay, nay, thou dost misjudge me, I regard 
This beauteous maid as high above me placed 
As Hestia herself; but as the night, 
That walks the golden path of brilliant day, 
Aspiring from its radiance to catch 
The glory bright of some refle6led gleam, 
Wherewith its own dark spirit to illume; 
So from a distance would I gain the light 
Of one sweet smile from Myra's countenance. 

Bari. 'Tis well your aspiration ceases there. 
Go to the maid and tell her if she would 
Her brother save from almost certain death, 
She must come hither and confer with me. 

Lycur. I will obey thee. 

Bari. Go, and speed thee well. 

Exit Lycurgus. 
There goes a man to whom T would entrust 
More than to any of a mortal mould. 

Exit, 

Scene IT. A room in Myra's house. 
Myra discovered (j^azino^ throw^h a zuindow. 
Myra, Ah! here Orestes comes; brave, noble soul! 
When he is absent, I do long for him 
As would a lady for her lover. He 
Has not a rival in his sister's love. 

She turns from the whidozv. 
What dangers he must undergo; alas! 
It chills my heart when e'er I think of it. 
I would this cruel war were at an end. 
Enter Orestes. 
She advances to meet him and thfv j^i^r ha'ids. 
Ores, Dear sister, T have come to say farewell. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 13 

T have a certain mission to perform, 

On which I start to-night; and if perchance, 

1 should no more return — or if, indeed, 

I lose my life in that I undertake, 

'Twill be for Athens' sake; so fear thee not. 

But ever wear fair virtue's garb that clings 

Like some rich veil of modest maidenhood 

About thy soul— the throne of purity. 

Myra. Orestes, thy strange words inspire fear, 

And dread foieb( ding in my troubled breast; 

O, thinkest thou, if thou wert torn from me. 

Whom could I turn to when I need a friend? 

Without a mother, whose much needed care 

Has been denied me from the day of birth; 

Deprived of father by this dreadful war, 

In which he fell upon a bloody field, 

And now to have thee — last of those I love, 

Torn from my side to leave me desolate! 

It is too much, even for Athens' sake. 

Ores. Thou shouldst not speak in this distraded strain; 

Lift thou thy soul above these weak emotions 

And fill thy breast with patriotic fire; 

And when thy spirit rises with the flood 

Of love inborn for thy dear native land, 

Tma'^ine then, thyself a warrior, 

And lo! behold poor Athens as she is, 

Reset and tortured by the cruel fangs 

Of those who rather should have been her friends, 

Than thus have made themselves her enemies; 

Till forced at bay upon her sacred soil, 

Subjed to want and misery untold 

Imposed by all the horrors of a siege, 

She totters, weak and helpless, soon to fall. 

Wounded and bleeding in the" Spartan's grasp. 

If thou couldst feel these things with all the weight 

With which they bear upon my anxious soul, 

Thou, as a wil'ing sacrifice wouklst give 

A thousand hrotht rs, if the chance were thine. 



14- A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

To tight and die for this, our lionored state. 

Myra. Ahis, I'm but a woman, weak and frail, 
And cannot feel as thou dost over this; 
I only think of thee, Orestes. Ah, 
Thy life is dear to me as is my own. 

OiiES. There is no remedy; it must be so. 

Myra. How my poor heart is throbbing with the pain 
That vibrates through my soul. 

{She weeps.) 

Orks. My sister dear, 

It grieves me much to see thee sobbing so. 
Canst thou not have a braver spirit? 

Myra. Nay, 

Not while thou art commissioned to thy death. 

Ores. But this is useless, Myra, though thou didst 
Shed more tears than the weeping Niobe, 
'Twould be of no avail, but rather serve 
To make my heart as womanish as thine, 
When it for duty should be cold and stern. 

Myra. Thou speakest truly; oh, how weak I am, 
That I should burden thee with tears and sighs, 
Instead of giving thee encouragement. 
Forgive me, brother, I will dry tiiy tears; 
.Sec, I have done so, and no more will I 
Make heavier thy burden than it is, 
Although my heart doth l)reak. 

Ores. Now art thou brave; 

A sister worthy of a warrior; 
But take encouragement, for though my task 
Be perilous, I safely may return. 

Myra. The gods in mercy grant it may be so. 

Ores. Within three days thou shalt the issue know. 
And how the fate of Athens rests with me. 

Myra. Oh, what an age those days will prove for me. 

Ores. And now farewell, my sister, henceforth keep 
Thy spirit brave. To the immortal gods 
Do T commit thee; may they guard thee well. 

Mvra. Farewell, Orestes. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 15 

Exit Orestes. 
Oh! alas! he's gone! 
How can I help but weep in my distress? 

She sinks down weeping. 
Enter Eunice. 
Eunice. My mistress, there is one, Lycurgus, who 
Awaits to see thee, 

Myra. {Starting up.) And whence comes he, pray? 
Eunice. He brings a message by Barisas sent. 
Myra. Barisas? Go, I will not hear it then; 
I am in no mood for his court; but stay. 
It may concern Orestes; I should know; 
Yes, bid him enter. 

Exit Eunice. 
Enter Lycurgus. 
. Lycur. Greeting, gentle Myra. 

Myra. Greeting to thee, Lycurgus, Come you from 
Barisas? 

. . IlVcur. Ay, and he this message sent: 
That if thou wouldst from death, Orestes save, 
Thou shouldst come unto him without delay. 

Myra. What can he mean, Lycurgus, dost thou know? 
Lycur. Nay, Myra. 
>• Myra. Wilt thou lead me to thy chief? 

Lycur. I will, fair lady, art thou ready, now? 
Myra. Yes, lead the way, nor pause to spare my breath. 
Hermes himself were not too swift for me, 
If with my anxious heart my feet kept pace. 

Exeunt. 

ScENR III. Same as Scene I. 
Barisas discovered in waititig. 
Enter Lycurgus accompanied by Myra. 
Lycur. Barisas, thy commands I have obeyed, 
And for thy further orders now await. 

Bart. Thou hast done well. Go thou and wait my call. 

Exit Lycurgus. 



16 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

My greeting, Myra, do I lender thee. 

MvRA, Barisas, hither have I come to learn 
The import of tliy message strange. 
. Bari. 'Tis this; 

That if thou wouldst Orestes save from death, 
It is within thy power. 

Myra. By our gods! 

But tell me what this dreaded mission is, 
And T, although a woman, timid, weak. 
For dear Orestes sake, will take the sword, 
Assume the habit of a warrior, 
Perform the duties you've assigned to him. 
And follow every detail to its end, 
Though its fulfilment bear me unto death. 

Bari. Nay, no such sacrifice will needed be. 

Myra. Oh! speak, and tell me what your words portend. 

Bari. Ah, Myra, thou dost know how all my soul 
Is thrilling with the love T bear for thee. 

Myra raises her hand to interrnpt him. 
Nay, hear me through. By Aphrodite's doves! 
Tf thou wilt but consent to be my wife. 
Then I thy brother's life will save, for he 
Shall of this work of danger be relieved. 

Myra. What! thinkest thou that I would thus be wooed 
By cover^ threats aimed at my brother's life? 
;Now can I see how all this came to pass; 
It was thy hand deep-dyed in villainy, 
That gave this dread commission unto him, 
That thou mightst use his life, thus placed at stake. 
To hold in ransom for his sister's love. 

Bari. And if 'tis so, wilt thou the ransom pay. 
Or rather see thy brother go to death? 

Myra. Since I do know thee, thou ignoble man, 
For what thou art, a traitor, vile, accurst, 
Using the public trust assigned to thee 
In base corruption for thy private ends. 
And that when Athens most needs honest men: 
Why, by the majesty of all the gods! 



A DAUGHTER OF AT HENS. 17 

Far rather with my own hand would I plunge 
This dagger deep into my throbbing heart, 
Than marry such a creature as thou art. 

Baki. And is it thus you answer me? Perchance 
You shall yet plead for mercy at my feet; 
For I will crush thy spirit, haughty maid. 
And teach ithee what an honor is my love. 

MvRA. Thy threats are vain, I'll plead my righteous cause 
To the Eponymos; I'll go at once, 
And tell him of thy most unrighteous schemes, 
And see if he will not redress my wrongs. 

Exit Myra. 

Bari. So be it. Now, Orestes, thou shalt die, 
Then of thy sister I'll possession take. 

god of love, if I did hear aright, 

. She'd die for him, yet would not live for me; 
But ere another day is dead, her tongue 
Shall change its scornfulness to pleading tones. 
Lycurgus! ho! come hither! 

E7iter Lycurgus. 
Lycur. Ay, Barisas, 

1 wait thy will. How can I serve thee now? 

Bari. ■ Lycurgus, I have something to perform — 
A deep laid plan, and I will need thine aid. 
As thou dost know, I love fair Myra. she. 
Cold, haughty creature, proudly scorns my suit; 
To-night her brother will the city leave. 
It may be, never to return; therefore, 
While good Orestes goes to meet his fate, 
We'll steal the maiden. Dost thou understand? 

LvcuR. Barisas, but too well I understand, 
But I will never aid thee in thy plot. 

Bari. Why, how is this, Lycurgus? I once thought 
That thou didst love me. 

Lycur. And I also thought 

Thou wert too honorable e'er to think 
Of such a deed. 

liARr. 'Tis but a ruse of love. 



IS A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

When I obtain possession of the maid, 
She will consent to marriage soon enough. 

Lycur. Barisas, nay, it is a villain's deed, 
Most cowardly and foul. 

Bari. Lycurgus, hold! 

Dost thou forget that once upon a field 
Of blood and carnage, where it seemed the form 
Of Ares cast his shadow o'er our lines. 
That thou didst stand, hemmed in on every side 
By foes who fought with fierce, untiring zeal. 
Until thy sword was broken in thy hand, 
/(\^ you, exhausted from the loss of blood 
That gushed in torrents from thy many wounds, 
Sank to the ground; when, with uplifted sword, 
A Spartan chief stood aiming at thy life? 
But ere his blade descended to thy Iieart. 
Dost thou remember how I stayed his arm 
By death far swifter than his own design? 
And dost remember how T stood by thee, 
Risking my own life in defence of thine, 
Until thy foes were beaten back or slain? 
Dost thou remember that, Lycurgus? 

L^cuK. Yes, 

'Tis written on the tablet of my brain, 
In characters of fire. 

Bari. Even so; 

And hast forgotten that you swore to serve 
Barisas, thy preserver, all through life, 
And blindly follow whither he might lead? 

Lycur. Nay, I remember all. 

I^AKi. And canst thou now 

Refuse this service that T a'^k of thee? 

Lycur. Were T not bound to thee, T would refuse; 
But since you have appealed unto my oath, 
I must perforce obey. Barisas, oh! 
'Twere better hadst thou left me on that field, 
To die in honor, than to use me thus. 
The helpless instrument of villainy: 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 19 

But thon didst say that thou wouldst marry her; 
Swear it shall be so; swear by all the gods 
That you will not dishonor her, or else 
I will not serve thee, though a thousand oaths 
Bound me to it. 

Bari. I swear it shall be so. 

Come to my house to-night; till then, farewell. 

Lycur. Farewell. {Aside.) And may the gods o'er 
Myra watch. 

Exit Lycurgus. 

Bari. For such a creature as fair Myra is, 
I'd be forsworn a hundred thousand times; 
My plan is laid, and if it but succeeds, 
Then all the world shall not foil my designs. 

Exit. 



Scene IV. Audience Chamber in the house of the 
Eponymos of Athefts. 

The Eponymos is discovered seated. 
Enter Myra, conducted by attendants. 

Myra. Eponymos, most noble and most just, 
In humble supplication do I come; 
I have a grievance, which by all that's right, 
I pray thou wilt redress. 

Epon. Speak, maiden, speak, 

And let me know what wrong Is done to thee. 

Myra. The general, Barisas, spoke to me 
Of love and marriage; I, in aftion true 
Unto the pure dilation of my heart, -- 
Refused his suit; and now, with curst intent. 
To force me into this unwelcome union, 
He hath my brother given to perform 
Some dreadful task that leads him unto death; 
And as a ransom for his safety claims 
The love which I refuse; therefore, I come, 
Eponymos, to thee, and humbly ask 
That thou wilt see this wrong is set aright. 



20 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Epon, Who art thou, maiden? 

Myra. Myra is my name: 

A gentle-woman, native of this state. 

Epon. And who thy brother? 

Myra. One, Orestes, who. 

By ardent service and his valiant deeds, 
Hath won the rank of captain. 

Epon. Yes, 'tis true: 

Thy brother I remember well indeed: 
He hath served Athens well, and bravely too, 
Yet am I powerless to save him now. 

Myra. Oh! canst thou not some other soldier find 
Who would essay this work with all the zeal 
That moves Orestes, yet, who would not leave 
A weeping sister to forever mourn 
The one on whom alone she did depend? 

Epon. If the Eponymos shou'd raise his hand 
To undo work a .2:eneral had done, 
What unity of action could exist 
Between the army and the government? 
Already has the state too often been 
The scene of inward strife: ambitious men, 
With petty jealousies, dissensions, quarrels, 
Have done more harm to Athens than her foes; 
And in such sad and troubled times as these. 
No question should arise in government, 
To make the burden that the state doth bear. 
More cumbersome and crushing than it is. 

Myra, weepiiiir, is led out by attendants. 
Exit Eponymos. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 21 



ACT II. 
Scene I. Front c/" Myra's house. '- 
Myra and Eunice discovered at the door. 

Myka. Oh, Eunice, since the sun in glory sank 
Deep in the boundless wilderness of space, 
To leave the day in conquest of the night; 
A weight of evil hath my brain oppressed: 
For it was then Orestes was to start 
Upon his work of danger, and perchance, 
Of death. O wretched, wretched, is my soul. 
Ah, Eunice, 1 have never felt like this, 
When stood Orestes, while the battle raged, 
In mortal combat for his country's good; 
For then he had a soldier's chance of life, 
And could upon his sword and shield depend; ^. ., 
But now it seems he goes to sacrifice 
His life in some strange and mysterious way, ■., 
That he may thereby benefit the state. 
O, it is woful, to the last degree! 

Eunice. Perchance the evil is not half so great 
As thou dost fear. 

MvRA. Alas! I would 'twere so; 

But all my spirit doth foreshadow ill. 

Eunice. Lo! gentle mistress, dost thou not behold 
Yonder a Greek, who swiftly comes this way? 

Myra. t do; it is Lycurgus: what strange chance 
Can bring him here at such a time of night? 

Enter Lycurgus. 
What news hast thou, Lycurgus? 

Lycur. Evil news: 

I bring thee tidings of Orestes. 

Myra. Speak, 

And quickly tell me all. What dreadful ill 
Hatli overtake him? I fear the worst. 



22 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Lycur. He hath been wounded, almost unto death, 
And now is lying in a certain house, 
Some distance from this place: he sent for thee — 
Although the hour is late, if thou wilt go, 
I will conduct thee unto him at once. 

Myra. This very instant I'll depart with thee! 
Oh. how my troubled heart doth palpitate 
With bitter anguish, as I think of him, 
His life-blood ebbing from a cruel wound. 

lead me unto him at once, I pray! 

Eunice. My mistress, shall I not go with thee, too? 
Lycur. Nay, none but Myra, did Orestes wish 
Should come unto him. 

Myra. So it shall be, then. 

Exit Eunice ifi hojise. 
Come, lead the way, that I may reach his side. 

Exeunt. 

Scene IT. A chamber in the house of Bar is as. 
Enter Myra and Lycurgus. 
Lycur. This is our destination. 
Myra. Oh! Alas! 

Orestes! my poor brother! where is he? 

Lycurgus is silent. 
You surely said I'd find him here; and yet, % 

1 do not see him. 

Lycurgus remains silent 
Good Lycurgus. speak; 
Where is Orestes? I implore thee, tell! 

Lycurgus still remains silent. 
O! canst thou stand there silent, when my heart 
Is breaking with such great anxiety? 
Where is Orestes? I command thee, speak! 

Lycur. The tale I told thee of thy brother's ills, 
Was but a base decoy, wherewith to lead 
Thine unsuspeding steps unto this house, 
And here imprison thee. 
Myra. What treachery! 



A DAUCHTEr? OF All-IENS. 23 

My maddene 1 brain dolh seem to lose its poise. 
Lycur. Indeed, 'tis true; thou art a crptive here. 
MvRA. Where is Orestes, whom thou didst declare 
Lay dying at this place? 

Lycur. ^ must confess 

I cannot tell thee aught of him, save this— 
He's not in Athens. 

Myra. So I am deceived, 

And ruthlessly betrayed! O, Niobe! 
Was ever fate more pitiful than mine? 

Lycur. (Aside.) Oh bitter thought, that tells my wretch- 
ed heart, 
I am the author of her misery! 

Myra. Thou say'st I am a captive? 
Lycur. ^^s; thou art. 

Myra. What is thy purpose? and whose house is this? 
Lycur. Barisas is the master here. 
Myra. Ye gods! 

Oh. grant me thy prote<5lion! 

Lycur. ^^'^^ ^^^^^ "^^* 

Thine honor shnll at least be well preserved. 

Myra. Mine honor, dost thou say? Accursed wretch! 
You know, already 'tis in peril placed 
By your false aaion. Oh, how low and vile 
Is that man who will wring a woman's heart, 
With faithless tales of woe and misery 
That have befallen those whom she doth love; 
That he may through the tender medium 
Of her affedion and solicitude, 
Lead her to ruin and perchance to death: 
For by the attributes of all our gods! 
1 swear I'd rather be the bride of death 
Than wed dishonor. 

Lycur. {Drawing- his dairj^er.) And I'd rather thou 
Wouldst plunge this dagger in my aching heart, 
Than thus reproach me with such bitter words. 
And yet with so much justice. Take the blade, 
And strike, but let the blow be quick and strong. 



24 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Myra. Nay; I am not an executioner 
Who deals out justice with a hand of iron, 
And smiles to see his victims' agonies. 
But oh, why hast thou thus ensnared me? Ah, 
Why hast thou proved thyself to be so base 
To take advantage of a woman's trust, 
And use her confidence for her disgrace? 

Lycuk. O Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos! 
Why was I ever born, thus to be placed 
Between two wrongs and forced to make a choice? 
An oath is sacred; so is woman's trust: 
To keep the first, I have the last abused, 
And basely thus deceived the one for whom 
I willingly would die. Ye cruel Fates, 
Thus Jo misrule! 

Myka. Wliat say you of an oath? 

What can Ihe meaning of your strange words be? 

Lycuk. Oh, Myr.i. this false deed that I have done. 
Was much against my will. Barisas, once 
Did save my life upon a battle field, 
Where death seemed certain as the touch of fate; 
And I, in gratitude for his brave deed, 
Swore r would serve him till my day of death, 
And do his bidding, though it cost the life 
He had redeemed; and now I find, too late, 
That treachery abides in noble breasts, 
For he was noble, though the bitter pangs 
Of disappointed love have made h'm base. 

Myra. Lycurgus, though you've done me grievous 
wrong, 
Yet, still I have mi-^judged thee; for I see 
Thy true and noble nature was the bond 
That forced thee, helpless, to fulfil thine oath. 
And thus, in doing right, commit a wrong. 
As for Barisas, who is called a Greek, 
But who outrages such a noble name. 
Far more than ever do T hate him now. 
Yet how, alas, shall I escape him, pray? 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 25 

Lycur. He swore to me thine honor would be safe. 
Myra, Indeed I trust him not; his evil soul 
Hath some fell purpose lurking iu its depths. 

wilt thou not assist me to escape? 

Lycur. You must stay here: I cannot break my oath, 
Unless Barisas first proves false to me. 

1 will protect thee: by the gods, I swear; 
For if Barisas thy dishonor seeks, 

Then shall he die, and that by my own hand, 

Myra [f thou shouldst fail me, also do I swear 
That ere the blush of shame shall taint my cheek, 
I'll sacrifice my life. 

LvcuR. The gods avert 

That dread calamity. Shouldst thou need aid, 
I'll hearken unto thee; therefore, I pray. 
If d tii<^er threatens, summon me at once. 

IVIyra. Thy words inspire courage in my breast. 

Lycur. I will not fail thee: Themis be my judge. 

Exit Lycurgus. 

Myra. Despite his promise to prote6l me, still 
My poor heart throbs with terror and with dread. 
What cun the purpose of Barisas be? 
I dare not think, lest 1 perchance conceive 
That whicli I fear to dream of. Cursed chance 
That ever saw me led to such a snare, 
Alas, 'tis cruel! Oh, my heart will break. 
Ah, bitter day, wouldst thou had never dawned. 
Grim danger casts its shadow o'er my path, 
And chills my soul with fear. 

Enter Barisas, who, unseen by Myra, stands watching 
her. 

Immortal gods! 
In mercy hear me, and prote6: me now: 
O throw thy shields before me, and thy swords 
Uplift in my defence. Your powers sway 
To aid a helpless maiden in despair. 

P»ari, {Coming forward.') Fair Myra, art thou calling 
on the gods? 



26 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Wliy prayest thou? 

Myra. I have much need of prayer, 

When in the power of a man whose aim, 
Is that of wronq^ing helpless maidenhood. 

Bari. Nay. nay, I would not harm the one I love. 

Myra. Speak not to me of love, thou knowest well 
That love between us never can exist. 
I could not love thee, though I spent my life 
In trying. 

Baet. So perchance you think, but I 
May find a way by which to make thee love. 

Myra. Not only hast thou proved thy.self to be 
A villain, but thou art a coward too. 
Thus to insult a woman who doth stand 
Weak and defenceless in thy power placed. 
A woman's weakness rather should appeal 
Unto a true man's honor, and should gain 
Protedion for her when she is distressed, 
And not serve as a warrant for abuse. 

Bari. How glorious thine eyes in anger are, 
Disclosing passions slumbering in thy soul, 
Whose fires have till now been unrevealed. 
By all the gods, thou art more beautiful 
In this thy rage, than when thou art composed. 
Storm on, sweet one, you please my fancy thus. 

Myra. Thou wouldst not for thy life address me so. 
Were but Orestes in the city's bounds. 

Bari. But he is not where he can aid thee now. 
Most lovely Myra. 

Myra. When he doth return. 

He shall be made aware of this, and thou 
Shalt dearly pay for all the suffering 
"Which you have caused me. 

Bari. He will ne'er return; 

E'en now he may be locked in death's embrace; 
And so you see that there are none to stand 
Between us now. 

Myra. Alas! it may be true 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 27 

That he is dead. Oh! if thou hast a heart 

That e'er was moved by pity's gentle touch: 

Here do I kneel before thee, and implore, 

That self-same pity may but move thee now 

To set me free, and let me from thy house 

Depart in safety. Thinkest, if thou hadst 

A sister who was most to thee on earth. 

And thou wert forced, in duty's stern behalf, 

To leave her unprotected for a lime; 

If thou shouldst to thy home return again, 

And find that sister subjed to the schemes 

Of some base-minded lover: if 'twere so. 

How wou'dst thou feel? What agonies of grief; 

What throes of rage thy bosom would convulse. 

And vvouldst thou rest until the life of him 

Who wronged thee, paid the forfeit for his crime? 

Barisas, think thou, of this cursi-d deed, 

And let its sadness be for me a shield, 

And gain my liberty. 

Bari. Once did I say 

That thou shouldst plead for mercy at my feet. 

Myra. {Rising.) I see thou art as heartless as a stone; 

Bari. Nay, nay, there dost tiiou wrong me, for despite 
The coldness you've bestowed upon my suit: 
The scorn with which you've heard me plead my love: 
Despite all this; my passion is as deep: 
My love intense as ever, when I gaze 
Into those flashing, lustrous orbs of thine. 
In proof of this, I still do offer thee 
A marriage honorable; Myra, love, 
Give thy consent, and by our sacred gods. 
Within an hour it shall be fulfille 1. 

Myra. What you propose, outrages every right 
Most sacred unto woman; you would force 
A union on me which I would detest. 

Bari. And so, you will not thus united be? 

Mvra. Nay; 'twould be torture where there should be 
bliss. 



28 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Bari. Then, scornful maiden, I will move thy heart, 
An 1 make it answer mine, else shall it break; 
For 1 will teach thee what it is to love; 
Here in my arms, and here upon my breast, 
Thou shalt the lesson, though unwilling, learn. 

Myra, Remorseless wretch! lay not tliy hands on me! 
Forbear! by Themis. I will call for help. 

Bari. It would avail thee nothing, fairest one: 
Nay, Myra, thou art mine, and there are none 
Who shall dispute my claim. {He attempts to take her in 
his arms.) 

Myra. Thou dastard! back! 

He clasps her struggling form to his breast 
Lycurgus! help! oh, help! Lycurgus! hel|)! 

Bari. You shriek in vain: you may as well submit; 
For none will aid thee. 

Myra. I will aid myself! 

She snatches his dagger from his side and stabs him. 
Take that! base ravisher! 

Bart. Almighty gods! 

Oh! woman, you have killed me! I am slain — 
Accurst be thou— Oh. misery — I die. {Dies.) 

Mvra. What have I done? It seems as though a dream 
Of untold horror had enchained my soul. 
Enter Lycurgus. 

LvcuR. What goes amiss? Great Zeus and his Queen! 
What do I here behold? Barisas stabbed? 
And growing cold in death? 'Tis even so. 

Mvka. And 'twas my hand that dealt the fatal blow 
Which saved my honor; but my bosom heaves 
With torture at the thought of what I've clone. 

LvcuK. Thou hast done right, for well did he deserve 
The fate which you've bestowed— but you must fly: 
For hark! the soldiers have the tumult heard — 
Thy shrieks and cries, and now do search the house 
To know the cause: they must not find thee here; 
For if they learn 'twas you who killed their chief. 
Thy sex will npt preserve thee from their swords. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 2» 

'Twill be some minutes ere they reach this spot; 
For many chambers will they hav^ to search 
Ere they pause here — this is so far removed 
From all the rest; so, if thou art discreet, 
Thou wilt have ample time for thine escape: 
Here is a secret passage; follow this, 
And it will lead thee safely to the street. 

Myra. But whither shall I fly? 

LvcuR. At least, from here; 

And it were better if from Athens too. 

Myra. And what of thou, Lycurgus? what of thou? 

Lycur. I will remain to meet the soldiers here; 
And with false tales mislead them — thus to foil 
All efforts at detection and pursuit. 
So fly at once, lest it should be too late. 

Myra. My troubled heart beats heavy in my breast, 
And I am far more fit to faint than fly. 
But courage: I will summon all ray strength 
For this one effort to escape. Farewell. 

Exit Myra. 

Lycur. Farewell, sweet Myra: what I now sha 1 do 
Will be for thy dear sake, and may the gods 
Look with approval on the sacrifice. 
And thou, cold form, that lies so silent there. 
Inanimate in death, that once m life, 
So full of vigor and of adlion was. 
Thy mortal life hath reached its mortal end, 
And death is now the tenant of thy parts. 
That arm, that once the sword in battle raised 
To crush thy foes beneath its giant force, 
Now lies unnerved, with all its power fled. 
That brain, once skilled in subtle arts of wa--, 
And versed in all the intrigues of the state. 
Ls now forever to ina6lion doomed. 
That voice, that once, with loud and stern command, 
Rang clarion-toned above the battle's din, 
To lead the way to glory and renown, 
Will nevermore be heard; death chains the tongue. 



so A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

That eye, that could so flash and burn with rage, 
And flame with love, is now devoid of light. 
That breast, where such a burning passion dwelt, 
No more will heave with rapture, nor with woe. 
The mortal link that bound thee unto earth, 
Was broken by a woman's feeble hand. 
Of woman born, thou didst a woman love. 
And woman proved thy ruin and thine end: 
Yet thou didst but receive the just reward 
Due thy base treachery. This is the blade 
That Myra plunged into thy throbbing heart. 
() life, on what a little thing you hang. 
But hark! here is Arcite with the guard: 
I pray the gods that Myra hath escaped. 

Enter Akcite, Alonrs and Soldiers luith drazvn swords. 

Arci. What means this wild tumult, Lycurgus, pray? 
We heard a woman's shriek and sounds confused, 
As if a struggle were in progress here — 
And then, a fall: what means it? Death and doom! 
There lies our chief, Barisas: raise him, quick! 
Some cursed treason hath been working here. 

Alo. Ye gods! his breast is bathed in tid^s of blood! 
He hath been stabbed! his heart is still! he's dead! 

Akci. Stabbed? dead? foul treason! wlio hath done this 
deeci? 
Whoe'er it be shall die: Lycurgus, speak; 
Tell us if thou dost know the guilty one. 
That we may visit vengeance on his head, 

LvccR. Behold him here; I am the guilty one. 

Akci. What, thou, Lycurgus? thou? 

LvcuR. T am the one. 

Arci. Thou, who of all men, should have been the last 
To do this deed? 

LvcuR. The deed was done by me. 

Akci. Oh, traitorous wretch, thou standest there con- 
fessed 
Of this vile crime, and not a flush of shame 
Mounts to thy cheek. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 31 

Lycur. There sometimes is a need 

When one perforce must kill his dearest friend 
For honor's sake; when, with the stroke of death. 
He seems to pierce his own heart through and through. 

Arci. Accurst assassin, daring to assume 
The garb of virtue for so foul a crime! 
My sword shall blush to drink thy traitor's blood: 
Die, treason with thee! 

Lycur. Hold! Arcite, hold! 

And hear me speak 

Arci. Nay. such a heart as thine, 

Ungrateful, base, should never be allowed 
To prompt its treason to a traitor's tongue. 

Lycur. {Drawing his sword) Stand back, I say! and 
let me prove to thee 
That I am worthy to be called a Greek. 
I swear to thee, this aft which 1 have done, 
Was for the sake of honor: that alone. 
I am a true Athenian, by the gods! 
And I my own heart rather would have pierced, 
And shed my blood in sacrificial tides. 
Than that of him who lies before thee dead, 
Had honor not been in the issue placed. 
But, what is life when honor is at stake? 
For, honor do I count of greater worth 
Than friendship, love and all the sacred ties 
That serve to bind us to this mortal world, 
With links of common sympathy and joy. 
Know then, 'twas wounded honor, whose redress 
Required the commission of this deed. 
Barisas threatened that more dear than life, 
And therefore, paid the penalty of death. 
Ye fain would know the purport of our quarrel; , 
I'ut that, eternity alone shall hold 
In its unsearchable and silent depths, 
For 'twas of privnte nature to us \^^^\\\ 
Ye know a woman was in it concerned, 
Rut who she is, none save mvself do know. 



32 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

And I will take the secret to my grave. 

Think what ye will of that which I have done, 

At least I'll prove no coward's craven blood 

Doth course in baseness through my swelling veins; 

I'll prove to ye, the smallest spark of life 

Within my being, trembles not at death. 

Death is a gentle sleep, in which the soul 

Dreams through eternity; why then, should dread 

The bosom animate at death's approach? 

I welcome death as nature's dearest friend, 

For 'tis a sure release from a! I the ills 

That in this life have grown too hard to bear. 

By Pallas and Apollo! thus I strike! 

To show ye how a true-born Greek may die. 

S^ads himself and falls. 
Come death, and bear my waiting soul away 
Unto that slumberous realm that mystic lies 
Beyond ihe portals of mortality. {Dies.) 

Scene II F. Same as Scene I. 
Enter Mvka. 

Myra. O Eunice! Eunice! come, thy mistress calls! 
Enter Eunick from house. 

Eunice. Hast thou returned? What of my ma^^ter, pray? 

Myra. Oh, Eunice, in the hour that has passed 
Since we last parted, I have suffered much; 
Such agonies of mind, and such despair — 
Such pain and anguish have my spirit crushed 
Beneath their woes, that it seems wondrous strange 
I am not raving mad! 

Eunice. My lady, dear. 

What means this strange and agitated speech? 
Thy brother is not dead? 

Myra. Alas! alas! 

I cannot tell, for I have seen him not. 

Eunice. How can this be? Why, something is amiss : 
When thou didst leave, thine obje6l was to reach 
The bedside of my lord. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 33 

Myra. Yes, so I thought; 

But it was all a base, deceitful lie, 
Forged but for my dishonor, which to savc>, 
I slew the wretch, Barisas, to whose house 
I was decoyed for purposes so foul. 

Eunice. T am amazed at finding there exists 
Such perfidy in Athens! 

Myra. Seeming virtue 

Doth cover up a world of guilt and sin. 

Eunice. O my poor mistress, what you have endured! 

Myra. Nor is it at an end, for I must fly. 
Even from Athens; for, if 'tis revealed 
That I've deprived the army of a chief. 
Great as Barisas was in lea'ts of war, 
Mv life will be in danger; but alas! 
I know not whither in my need to turn 
And seek for shelter. 

EuNiCK, This is sad indeed. 

Oh, that my lord were here to guard thee now. 

M\ kA. He may be in the kingdom of the dead; 
And 'twould be better if T too were there. 
This is a cruel world in which we live. 

Eunice. Ah. speak not so, dear mistress, nor despond; 
For yet thy brotht-r may return to thee. 
Oh, be assured; and now I have a plan 
Which, though mad-thoughted you perchance may deem, 
At least wil lead thee from the danger here, 
That hangs o'er thee immediate and dark. 

Myra, What is it, pray? for aught you may suggest, 
I will consent to. 

Eunice. Hear me then: 'tis this — 

That we disguise as pages; in that gar'.). 
We'll fly at once unto the Spartan camp. 
There tell some tale of wrong we have endured 
Here in our native city; tiien we' 1 swear. 
In spirit of revenge we come to join 
The army that opposes Athens' sway, 
And serve as pages to the Spartan chiefs. 



34 A DAUGHTER OFJATHENS. 

The story will partake of much that's true, 
Although not wholly so. 

Myra. It shall be done. 

Thy mind is rich with ideas as bright 
As all the beauteous light that golden gleams 
From yonder star, that sits, in glory throned, 
Based on the majesty of boundless space. 
Already do I feel my pulses rise, 
My heart beat quick and faster as I think 
Of this adventure, for it thrills my soul 
With that intoxication, which so marks 
The gambler, as on ruin's brink he stands, 
And stakes his all upon a single throw. 
With spirit I will enter in the scheme. 
It now is long past midnight; ere the dawn 
Shall flush the East with softest rosy hues, 
We must be gone. Come. Eunice, and prepare. 

Exeunt in house. 



I 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 



ACT IIT. 
ScENK I. Spar ta?i. Camp. Lkander's tent, 

Zelotfs, Hakmonts and Soldiers discovered drinking 
and conversing. 

Zelo, Apollo's chariot of fire mounts 
High into heaven; iridescent light, 
Resplendent, blazes from the flaming wheels, 
And colors all the East; the coursers' hoofs 
Strike dazzling sparks of glory from their path. 
Whose flashes bright, by Zephyrus are caught, 
And formed into a brilliant diadem, 
To crown the brow of Hemera. Nature starts, 
Released from Hypnos, Morpheus and Nyx, 
And thrills with new-born life and m;!Jesty. 
O'rr hill and valley; golden sun-Seams fly 
On gleaming pinions of celestial light, 
And with sweet kisses, from the realm of sleep 
Awaken all the flowers. Aud the day 
Is merged in spletidor that grows more intense 
With each advancing step that Cronus makes. 
Thus, quickly pass the hours, and our chief 
Still tarries; it was yester-niglit he went 
To ho'd a private council with the king. 
Concerning the assault that's close at hand, 
And which, if but success doth grace our swords, 
Will level Athens to the very dusl, 
Atul place iier at the mercy of our state. 
lUit I would know what keeps Leander so; 
He left before the night-watch had beguii. 
And hath not yet returned. 

Harmo. Kinp^ .^gis is 

So a6live and so tireless a man, 
That when he meets one of Le mder's kind, 
Wlio of the royal disposition seems 



36 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

To be a part— so like in mood are they; 
Why, both forget the swift increase of time; 
And thus, the night spreads out her sable wings, 
Spangled and gleaming with the countless stars, 
And soars in darkness to the silent past; 
And day appears, to startle both the chiefs 
From their deep-thoughted plans of vidory. 

Zelo. You truly speak; if we except the king, 
Leander is the greatest general 
That Sparta boasts; not only in the plan, 
Where he displays such splendid qualities, 
But HI the raging battle he excels. 
Harmo. {Raising his cup.) We'll drink success unto 
this bold attempt 
To conquer Athens; may it crown our arms 
With glory, and our state vviih deathless fame. 

Soldiers. Success and victory! 
^ HvRMo. Ay^ that's the cry- 

But lo! the guards approach with prisoners. 

Enter Myka and Eunice disguised as pages, under guard 
^/ Artemas and Theron. 

MvRA. I pray thee, loose thy hold upon my wrist; 
It is not iron, that you should clutch it so! 
Arte. Force is a law which soldiers must observe. 
Myra. It should not be so, when by gentler means, 
They could as well accomplish their designs. 
Theron. Come, come, why dost ihou lag? 
Eunice. Alas! you take 

Such giant strides, I connot keep thy pace. 

Zelo. Arlemas. what means this? Whom hast thou 

brought? 
Arte. This morning, as T went to change the guard 
That had grown weary with the tedious watch. 
That duty bound them to throughout the night, 
I saw these two Athenians, hand in hand. 
Come walking toward the camp, and by their dress. 
I knew from whence they came; I therefore thought 
They must be spies, or of that charader— 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 37 

AUhougfh they do protest it is not so— 
Hence, prisoners I straightway made them, and 
Have brought them liither, so tliou couldst tiiyself 
Judge of the way 'tis best to deal with tliem. 

Zklo. Why were ye found so near our camp? 

Myra. Art thou. 

The sole commander here? 

Zelo. Nay, I am not, 

But in the absence of our general. 
I am by him appointed to command. 

Myra. Then I'll not answer thee, for what I tell, 
Must be unto the general alone. 

Zelo. If thou hast aught to tell, thou'lt find in me 
A willing auditor. 

Myra. Nay, 'tis thy chief 

With whom I would confer, and he alone. 

Zelo. {To Eunice.) And what hast thou to say? 

Eunice. My 

master there, 
Speaks for us both; I do abide by him. 

Zelo Then shall ye both in close confinement wait 
Until our chief returns. {To Artemas and Theron.) 

Take them away, 
And guard them with the strictest vigilance, 
Till further orders you receive from me. 

iS'jir^ww/ Artemas awfl' Theron, with Myra and Eunice. 
How weak and craven these Athenians look; 
Not half the men that we of Sparta are; 
It seems to me that all their time is spent 
In dressing, and attendance al the baths. 
An 1 all those arts best suited to the mind 
Of fickle woman, and her vanity. 
'Twere better far if they with skilful sport.s. 
Befitted to the sturdy heart of man, 
Would mould their bodies into frames of iron, 
And thus, with courage, constitute themselves 
The bone, the .sinew and the life of war. 

Harmo. Zelotes, but too often have T found 



38 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

These pallid youtiis, whom you seem to despise 

As too effeminate for warriors, 

To be like fifty furies, in tiie nght, 

Armed with swords of fierce and quenchless flame, 

And leaping, raging, thirsting for my blood. 

And often I have counted life as lost, 

When some chance intervene-d to change my fa'e. 

Zklo. Perchance 'twas so with thee. 

Hakmo. What dost thou mean? 

Zelo. What I have said; perchance 'twas so with thee. 

Harmo. a coward's sneer lies covert in thy words. 

Zelo. Harmonis, since thou wouldst my meaning know, 
Learn then, 'tis this: that when a craven's sword 
Is raised against another's, then the fight 
Is just as desperate and hardly fought, 
As when two giants, reeling to and fro, 
vSlrike mighty blows that to the skies resound. 
Until the earth shakes with the deadly strife 
Caused by their struggles. 

Harmo. Now, by Here iles! 

Tiiy life shall answer for this gross insult. {Draws his 
sword a?id rushes on Zelotes, 7vho also drazvs his, 
and they fight.) 

Enter Artemas. 

Arte. Harmonis, hold! Zelotes, sheath thy sword! 
Cease this contention, for Leander comes. 

Harmo. Another time will we this quarrel arrange. 

Zelo. When it may suit thee, I shall ready be. 

They sheath their szvords. 
Enter Leander. 

Lean. What hath gone wrong? I thought asTapprochcd, 
There was commotion here. 

Zia.o. Good general. 

Two prisoners were brought in by the guards. 
Whom I this very mstant did commit 
Unto confinement till thou ."-houldst return; 
This is the only event that has passed 
Since thy departure; this confusion was 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 39 

What thou didst note. 

Lean. Who are these prisoners? 

Zelo, Athenians both: a master and his slave, 
Who claim to have some business with thee; 
And they were taken coming to the camp; 
I am at fault if they prove not to be 
Spies, plotters or assassins. 

Lean. Bring the one 

Wlio seems to be the master unto me. 
And I will find what purpose he may have. 

Zelo. But wilt thou not recruit thy wasted strength, 
With restful slumber, ere thou dost assume 
The burden of thine office? 

Lean. .Morpheus 

Shall rule me not until my troubled mind 
Is freed from all its care. 

Zelo. I'll go at once 

And bring the prisoner. 

Exit Zelotes. 

Lean. A soldier's rest 

Is never found, unless it be the grave; 
And yet, what glory marks his fierce career, 
Although it be a path of blood and death. 
Not one of ye would change his sword and shield 
For mines of gold: do I not speak aright? 

Soldiers. Ay. gt-neral. 

Harmo. a Spartan warrior 

His life would give up rather than his sword. 

Re-e titer Zrlotes with Myka and guard. 

Zelo. This is the prisoner. 

Lean. What brings thee here? 

Myra. O noble Spartan, hither have I come 
To join thy service. 

Lean. Why, how can this be? 

Thou art of Athens, if I judge ar'ght? 

MvRA. I was of Athens, but the cruel wrongs 
Which I have suffered from Athenian hands. 
Hath turned mv love for Athens into hate: 



4-0 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

And I forswear her with a bitter heart, 

That grows revengeful wiien I pause to tiiink. 

Lean. What wrongs are these of which thou dost com- 
plain? 

Myra. They for thine ear alone must be reserved. 

Lean. [To Soldiers.) Go, leave us to ourselves. 

Exeunt Harmonis, Guard and Soldiers. 

Zelo. {Aside to Leander.) Art thou 

discreet? 
What if this youth, when ye are left alone, 
Should use the dagger on thee? 

Lean. Fear thee not; 

If with that stripling there, I could not cope, 
I would deserve to die. Leave us alone. 

Exit ZklotI'Is. 
First, tell me what thy name is. 

MvRA. Calydon, 

I am of gentle birth, but being poor, 
Was forced to enter service as a page. 

Lean. And what is it that turns thee from thy state 
To serve her enemies? 

Myra. It is, alas! 

The greatest injury I could sustain — 
I had a sister, beautiful and pure. 
A perfect type of charming maidenhood, 
As innocent and tender as a babe. 
Whom I did love with all the gentle fqrce 
That nature fosters in the ties of blood — 
With all the sweet affe6tion. holy, chaste. 
That moves the mind to watchfulness and care, 
And makes two spirits, sympathetic, true, 
Unite in bonds that find their life and strength, 
In links of common griefs and kindred joys; 
The tale is painful and with sadness frauglit — 
There was in the Athenian ranks a chief, 
A general of note, who paid his court 
Unto my sister; she, wiih modesty, 
Declined his suit because she loved him not; 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 41 

Tlien this \ile monster in a mortal guise, 
When ni,;^ht had fallen, stole to her abode. 
And in mine ai)sence, basely ravished her; 
Next day, when I returned unto the house, 
f^ie to'd me what had happened in the night, 
And swearing that her life should not survive 
The death of virtue — woman's choicest gift — 
She plunged her dagger in her heaving breast, 
And with a glance of agonizing pain, 
She hid her shame in death's black-robed arms. 

judge of all the misery and grief. 
The bitter woe that swept upon my heart 
And fired all my soul with potent rage. 

1 told my wrongs to the Eponymos, 

And asked him for redress, but 'twas in vain: 

He would not pay attention to my plea; 

Thf n in a very frenzy of despair, 

T swore to be revenged, and so I was: 

I am no soldier, nor a fighter, else. 

Her ravi^her, accursed be his soul! 

I would have met in combat; as it was, 

I stabbed him when he thought no evil nigh, 

And left him dying in a public place; 

Straightway I fled from Athens for my life. 

That by the aftiou was in danger placed; 

Atid now I do forswear my native state, 

l)y which I have so cruelly been used. 

I am determined, heart and soul to join 

My fortune with the chance that Sparta gives. 

Although I am not trained in feats of war, 

Yet, as a page, I swear I'll serve thee well, 

If thou wilt but my services accept. 

Le \x. Perchance thou canst some information give 
That will of greatest value prove to be. 
What are the plans, resources and the strength 
or the Athenian garrison, canst tell? 

MvR A. Hold! I am not a traitor, false and vile. 
Com? hither to betray my native state; 



42 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Dost thou imagine 1 am such a wretch? 
Then art thou wrong; I come in faith to give 
My service honorable to thy cause, 
And naught but honest service will I do; 
For that which hath been trusted unto me 
In faith, as member of a certain state, 
I hold as sacred as our holy gods. 

Lean. And so thou dost refuse to tell me that 
Which I have asked thee? 

Myra. Ry my faith. I do! 

Lean. Consider well; in thus opposing me, 
You may arouse an enemy who might 
With but a word commit thee unto death. 

Myra. You have my answer; I will say no more, 
Save that I'd rather die than prove so false 
As to betray the land that gave me birth. 

Lean. Now, by the gods! thou art a noble youth; 
I had not thought to find so true a heart 
Within thy breast; thou art a worthy lad. 
For he who bravely stands, preferrmg death, 
When turning traitor will preserve his life, 
Is worthy of the trust of any man. 
Come hither, lad, and let me grasp thy hand; 
Indeed, I will engage thy services. 
And glad I'll be in finding one so true. 
And now, I pray thee, tell me who it was 
Who came this morning to the camp with thee. 

Myra. He is a s'ave who was bequeathed to mc — 
All of my father's fortune that remained 
When death o'ertook him; hence, this servant is 
My sole possession, and a worthy one, 
For he hath served me well and faithfully. 
And when from Athens I was forced to fly. 
Although he might well have deserted me. 
And in the city stayed, secure and free. 
Yet did he say he'd never leave my side. 
Hut follow where T led and share the ills 
That feM unto mv lot; and he it was • 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 43 

Who followed me into the camp this morn. 
If thou wilt but release him, you will find 
How useful he will prove himself to be. 

Leak. Then, it is now a compaft, just and fair, 
My page thou shalt be, and if all proves well, 
Thy merit shall not distance thy reward. 
As to thy servant, he shall serve me too; 
I'll have him trained to be an armourer. 
Of which our army stands in sorest need; 
Harmonis can instruft him in the art, 
For he himself once served as armourer; 
lUit he has learned to bear and wield as well 
As he once made these implements of war. 
What is thy servant's name? 

Myra. Anacreon. 

Lean. He shall be set at liberty at once. 
Ho! guard, come hither! 

Enter Aktemas. 
Tell Harmonis, I 
Do here await him: bid him come at once. 

Exit Artemas. 
Thou art a handsome lad, but that fair cheek. 
That in thy vain and pleasure-loving state, 
Was carefully protected from the storm, 
And from the burnmg glances of the sun, 
Will change its color to a darker hue 
In this rude camp, where naught but manly strength 
Is looked upon as worthy of regard. 

Mvka, Although I cannot boast of manly strength, 
I have a true heart I will give to thee. 

Lean. And which I do accept. 

Mvka. [Aside.) If he but knew 

It is a woman's heart, what would he say? 
Alack! I would be overcome with shame. 
Enter Harmonis. 

Harmo. In answer to thy summons I have come. 

Lean. I have a task for thee — the prisoner 
Who with this youth was captured and confined, 



4<4. A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Take thou beneath thy care, and teach him well 
The art and pra«^l;ice of an armourer, 
That to the army he may he of use. 

Harmo. It shall be done, and that most faithfully. 

Myra. {Aside.) I fear she'll break more armour than 
she'll mend. Exii Hakmonjs. 

Lkan'. Now, Calydon, I'll woo the goddess, sleep. 
And leave thee at my door to guard my rest, 
For slumber hath not visited mine eyes 
These many hours, for through a!l the niglit 
I have been up in council with the king. 
Grant thou no one admission to my tent, 
Unless he be a messenger express. 
Sent by King yEgis. 

Myra. Thou shalt be obeyed, 

And no one shall disturl) thee from thy sleep, 
Till gentle nature prompts thee to awake. 

Exit Leander in ie?ii. 

Myra. How good and noble this Leander is: 
How stately is his mien: what lofty thoughts 
Start from the impulse of his generous heart. 
Though not in title, yet he is in mind 
A king of mortals, and that noble brow 
Was made to wear a crown, not formed of gold. 
But one of bright immortal glory wrought: 
Gold is too base a burden for that head. 
How my poor heart did palpitate and throb— 
With what emotion though, I cannot tell — 
When his dark eyes, so burning and intense, 
Seemed gazing deep into my very soul. 
Oh, in a strange game I am now engaged, 
Of which the end is doubtful and obscure. 
T wonder where Orestes is: alas! 
That is the thought that weighs upon my soul. 
But yonder comes a messenger; it seems 
His errand leads him liither. 

Enter Amphion. 

Amphi. Tell me, lad. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 45 

Is not the •general, Leander. here? 

Myra He is; hast thou brought messages for him? 

Amphf. I have. 

Myra, I wiU deUver lliem for thee. 

Amphi. Nay, I must see the general, myself. 

Myra. Thou canst not see him now, for he doth sleep,' 
And woukl not be disturbed. 

Amphi. I cannot uait, 

For I have other duties to perform. 

Myka. And are thy messages important ones? 

Amphi. They are important, and most urgent too. 

Myra. And hast thou been sent hither by the king? 

Amphf. Who art thou, that you should thus question me? 
'Tis my affair from whence I come, and now 
1 bid thee stand aside and let me pass: 
I'll have no more delay. 

Mvka. Thou canst not pass 

Till tliou hast told if thou art from the king. 

Amphi. Thou prating fool! I bid thee stand aside 
And let me pass, else I will force my way! 

Myra. Thou art a coward to insult me thus! 

Ampih. {Drawing his sivord.) A coward? by the gods! 
I'll prove to thee 
If I be cowardly! come, draw thy sword. 
Or I will run thee through as thou dost stand! 

Myra. {Aside.) Alas! I did forget I am a man, 
And not a woman in my present garb. 

A\ipii[. Come, draw thy sword, I say, and stand on 
guard! 

Myra. T humbly pray thou wilt not take offence 
At niy rash words: I did forget myself. 

Ampiif. Thou shalt not thus escape the punishment 
Due to thine insolence. If thou wilt not 
n-aw forth thy sword and stand on thy defence, 
I'll ihrasii thee with the broadside of my blade! 

Myra. But 1 know naught of fencing, I do swear, 
And could not stand against thee. 

A.MPIII- {Striking her with his szvord. )Then, take that! 



46 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

MvRA, {Draw'uii; her sword.) Hy Ares' shield, ere I to 
this submit, 
I'll fight thee! {Aside.) Oh, I tremble for my life. {They 
fight, and Myea, who handles her sword awkzuardly, is 
beaten back.) 

Oh, help! Leander! save me from this man 

Who, like a fiend, is thirsting for my blood! 

Enter Leander, from tent. 

Lean. Castor and Pollux! why am I disturbed 
In this rude manner? Ha! what's this, a brawl? 
Hold! 1 command, and tell me what this means. 

Amphi. That trembling coward, pale and cringing there. 
Stood and denied me access unto thee, 
Till I should answer to the questions he 
Put with assurant and ofiensive air. 

Lean. Therein he but obeyed my own commands; 
And was it then for this that you did fight? 

Amphi. Nay, 'twas because, with sharp and scornful 
tongue, 
He flung an insult in my very teeth. 

MvRA. And 'twas because with force that he did strive 
To gain a rude admittance to thy tent. 

Lean. Whom art thou from? 

Amphi. The king. 

Lean. What hast thou 

brought? 

Amphi. These messages, which he bade me to place 
In thy hands only. 

Lean. {Taking ^nessages.) If it were not so. 
And if these messages which I do hold. 
Were not important ones, then shouldst thou feel 
The punishment thy rudeness well deserves; 
But lest you should perchance yet come to grief, 
Learn, in the future, to condu6l thyself 
With gentleness while thou art in the camp. 
And all thy valor for the field reserve. 
Where 'tis most needed; now thou mayest go. 

Exit Am PHI ON. 



A DAUGHTE:^ 07 ATHEN3. 47 

And so, thou prelty weakliiv;-, is ii thus 

You guard uiy slumbers? Truly thou art brave, 

To tremble like a woman ere she faints. 

And shriek for aid, when thou art forced to draw 

And wield thy sword for him whom thou dost serve. 

Thou art a trusty page, I must confess; 

Indeed, thy bravery amazes n'le. 

MvRA. Alas! I ne'er was taught the art of fence, 
For I have always been a lady's page. 
And was not thrown among ill-tempered men. 
Who, at a word, are ready with the sword. 
To cut and slash each other a; though mad. 

Lean. So from the blissful reahn of dreamy sleep, 
You roused me with this most unseemly noise. 

MvR.\. ( IVeeping-.) Alas! I could not help it, I do swear, 
For I was fearful for my life. 

Lean. Poor lad! 

Weep not thy weak heart all away in tears; 
I will forgive thee, since you take it so. 
When nature made thee, she mistook her task; 
You should have been a woman, not a man. 

MvRA. I can believe you, would that I were not; 
Far rather would I sing than fight for thee. 
For thus I charmed the ladies of our state, 
Who vowed they'd rather hear my voice in song. 
Than all the passioned sighs that lovers breaihe; 
And yet, if thou shouldst be in danger placed. 
Wherein thy life depended on my sword, 
I swear to thee, I'd give my life for thine. 

Lkan. Thou art a most strange boy. 

MvRA. I am indeed. 

LitAV. And yet, I like thee well — extremely well; 
I have na"ght, Calydon, upon this earth, 
That I hold dear, for all my kin are dead; 
My mother, father, sisters, brothers, all, 
Rut thou shalt be a brother unto me, 
And if thou provest ever staunch and true, 
I will appoint thee heir to my estates. 



*«^8 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Myra. My lord, I will not serve thee for the gain, 
But for the honor, and for that alone. 
My life is thine. {Aside.) Alack! my heart is too. 



ACT IV. 

ScENK I. Secluded part of ihe Spartan Camp. 
Enter Zelotes and Harmonis. 

Zelo. Here is a place, retired and obscure, 
Where we are not apt to discovered be. 

Harmo. Then draw thy sword at once, and gfiiard 
thyself! 

Zelo. First, 'tis agreed that if the one who falls, 
Should e'er recover from the wound received, 
He never will disclose the name of him 
With whom he fought, lest punishment should fall 
With heavy hand upon the vi6lor's head, 
For thus engaging in an aft prescribed. 

Harmo. T am in honor bound, and pledge my word, 
To the agreement; 'twill be fair for both. 

Zelo. Then, look unto thyself, for I shall fight 
With all the skill that pradice hath acquired. 
And all the strength that in my body dwells. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. <9 

Harmo. Waste not thy strength in boasting; come and 
fight. {They fight, and the sword ^/ Harmonis is 
broken; Zelotes is about to stab him. Enter Eunice who 
turns the blozv aside iviih her dagger. 

EoNicR I pray you, cease this cruel, murderous strife! 
What would ye do, my lords? What demon curst 
Infests your minds with jealousy and rage, 
That ye should thus be at each other's throats? 

Harmo. Stand back, and let him strike the deadly blow 
That fortune hatii at his disposal placed! 

EuNiCK. And thus deprive the army of a man 
Of whose good service Sparta is in need? 
As she needs that of every valiant man; 
Nay, nay. my lords, I pray you will desist. 
Invest your hearts with feelings just and kind, 
And kill your anger with the .sentiment 
Of noble friendship, true and generous, 
That strives and wishes for a mutual good. 

Har.mo. Far rather would I die by mine own hand, 
Than owe my life to him. 
' EuNiCK. You do forget: 

Thy life is not thine own to lightly make 
A disposition of: it is thy king's; 
And therefore, in the king s name I command 
That ye no longer in this strife engage. 

Zei,o. {Sheathing his sword.) Indeed, most wisely do 
you speak, my lad: 
I had not thought of it in such a light. 
But since my heated passion now is cooled, 
And since you speak, it strikes me with great force; 
And therefore will I heed your sage command. 
Harmonis. this good youth you have to thank 
For parrying the blow aimed at your life. 

Harmo .Still 1 in readiness await the blow, 
If 'tis thy will to deal it once again. 

Zelo. Nay, we will heed the promptings of this youth, 
And so, farewell. {Aside-) Oh, curse that meddling fool! 
Had he not interfered with my designs, 



CO A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Harmonis, whom I hate, would now be dead. 

Exit Zelotks. 

Harmo. Good youth, thou hast in truth my life preserved 
From tliat proud Spartan's sword, though truth to tell, 
I rather would have had it otherwise, 
Than be indebted unto him for aught; 
But how was it that you discovered us? 

Eunice. It was by chance: while passing near this spot, 
I iieard the clash of swords, and much surprised, 
I hastened here to see what it could mean, 

Harmo. And so. arrived in time to save my life. 
Here is my hand, take it, Anacreon, 
And with it, friendship's true and earnest pledge. 

Exeunt. 



Scene II. Interior of Leandek's tent. 
Leand'vR. Z^:lotes rt;;/^ Harmonfs discovered conferring. 

Lean. Is now the army all in readiness 
To strike the blow that must decide this war? 

Zelo. It is, my lord, and waits impatiently 
The time appointed for the fierce assault. 
When all our warriors, with hearts of iron. 
Will leap like thunder-bolts from Zeus sent, 
To crush and conquer every enemy. 

Lean. 'Tis well, and with such soldiers, we will win. 
Have the instru6lions. which I gave to thee, 
I>een carried out, Harmonis? 

Harmo. Vcs, my lord. 

In every detail have they been observed. 
And all that now remains, is in tiiy hands— - 
Thy leadership, on which we all depend, 
And which has never yet been known to err. 

Lean. Nor shall it now, if but the gods will look 
With favor on the effort I shall make. 
We will not fail, far rather than defeat. 
We'll yield to death; have I your hearts in this? 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 51 

Zelo. You have, my lord. 

Hakmo. Ay, victory or death! 

Lean. Then keep the army in its present form, 
And time and fortune shall fulfil the rest. 
And now, farewell, your duty's smallest part 
I trust you to discharge. 

Zelo. and Harmo. Farewell, my lord. 

Exeunt Zelotes and Karmonis. 

Lean. How dark the veil that covers fortune's face, 
To hide it from our view; oh, that I might 
Draw it aside and with inquiring mind. 
Gaze deep into her strange and mystic eyes, 
To read tiierein the stern decrees of fate, 
And thus my troubled spirit set at rest; 
But s*ay, if I perchance, by some black art, 
Should enter tiiat obscure, mysterious realm, 
Where reigns the future, far from mortal eyes, 
And learn the events fortune doth conceal — 
That world of action that in silence lies, 
Inevitable, in the path of time, 
Whose sure approach shall consummation bring 
Of all those unknown things that are to be — 
That unborn world — that stage, whose curtains part 
Upon the drama tragical of life — 
If I with eager eyes should view this play, 
Would my impatient sp'rit be at rest? 
Or would I fear to meet the destinies 
That fate holds ready to administer 
With cold relentless hand and mocking eye? 
Perchance it would upon my senses sweep 
With all the terror that attends a dream 
Of some dread horror, yet with all the force 
That marks the true existence of a fa(!it, 
Until to frenzy driven by the thoughts 
Tliat flooded madly through my heated brain, 
I'd seek in self-destru(5lion my relief — 
i')Ut pause, my brain, in your chaotic whirl; 
I'll cease this meditation, for it leads 



C2 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Unto distraction: I will call my page. 
And gain diversion through his ready wit. 

Jvi'nors a bell. 
Enter Mvra. 

MvRA. My lord, did you not summon me? 

Lean. I did, 

Good youth, I am in melancholy mood, 
And I would have thee with ihy tongue beguile 
My humor dull into a happy state. 

Mvra. Ere I for thee can find a remedy, 
I nuist be made acquainted with thy woes. 
What is the cause of this thy sad complaint? 
Is it because, with ever-longing heart, 
Thou hast so long been parted from the charms, 
The tender smiles and glances of thy bride? 

Lean. I have no bride, whose absence I should mourn. 
Unless that bride be fortune, whom I trust 
Is ever by my side to serve me well. 

Mvra. Then it must be some maid, thy mistress fair, 
Whose beaming eyes, soft with the light of love, 
Live in the sanduary of thy heart, 
With rapture sweet; who.se pure and dewy lips, 
Red as the deepest blush that dyes the rose, 
And breathing sighs from her white, heaving breast. 
Have left their kisses burning on thy face; 
Whose silken hair that on her machless brow 
Rests like a crown of gold — whose crimson cheek 
Your memory haunt; and whose grace-gifted form, 
Dwells in the secret chambers of thy soul 
As part of thee. Do I not speak aright? 

Lean. Almost thou d )st persuade me to believe 
I am in love, but that is not the truth: 
I love no woman. 

Mvra, Art thou sure of that? 

Lean. As sure as that life le ids us imto death. 
And I will never love, be thou assured. 

Mvra. Take care, thou art but man, and mm may fall 
Beneath the witchery of worn ui's eyes, 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 53 

Altliouo h he be a warrior. 

I.KAN. Nay, nay, 

Woman is powerless to touch my heart: 
Woman — fair, fickle creature that she is, 
With all her vanity and love of show. 
Robing her form in garments soft and fine, 
Adorning nature's charms with jewels rich, 
As artificial as her own light heart, 
And full of fancies, visionary, vain. 
As night is with imaginary forms; 
Her ways are soft, insinuating, kind, 
But when she seems most artless, then her mind 
Ts subtly working with a deep design 
To gratify some frivolous desire; 
She's pleasure's devotee and passion's slave, 
A pretty, idle toy, wherewith at times, 
When duty hath received attention due, 
We may beguile the moments pleasantly: 
Nay, Calydon, no woman shall I love. 

MvKA. Then therein lies the trouble, for thy mind 
Knows not the rapture of a woman's love, 
And thus thy heart is void and laid to waste. 

Lean. But, Calydon, since I can know not love, 
Nor woman who can inspiration give, 
To make the heart beats quicken in my breast, 
Where can I find the remedy I need? 

MvKA. Ah! could you but my sister have beheld, 
Methinks you would have loved her, for 'twas said 
Siie was among the fairest of our state. 

Lean. But thy fair sister now is dead; she is 
Beyond the reach of mortal eye; therefore. 
Thou secst it is vain to think of her. 

MvRA. Perchance 'tis not. 

Lean. I do not understand, 

Myka. I will explain my meaning. Once I knew 
A soothsayer, a wise and learned man, 
Who was well versed in supernatural art; 
And he did teach me how at midnight hour. 



54 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

I might conjure the spirits of the dead 
Like mortal beings to appear on earth, 
And with an understanding tongue converse. 

Lean. Thy soothsayer was but a shallow knave, 
To teach thee such impossibilities. 

Myka. Nay, nay, my lord, he was a learned man. 

Lean. Boy, there are many learned fools on earth. 

Myra. This good man was not of that chara6ler: 
He was no fool, as I will prove to thee 
By summoning my sister's spirit now. 
With whom thou shalt converse, if 'tis thy wish. 

Lean. Then be it so. I'll humor thee in this. 

Myra. I will withdraw, for I must work the charm 
In solitude; wait thou some minutes here 
And thou shalt see. my sister will appear. 
{Aside.) I'll don my maiden-robts, and then return. 

Exit Myra. 

Lean. Does he possess this power that he boasts? 
If so, I soon shall learn, for in the camp 
There are no maidens, and if one appears, 
Then must there be things of which \ know naught; 
And wherefore should there not be? for in death 
There is a power all invisible 
That moves the world with its cold, silent force; 
But though it works unseen, it still exists 
With greater sway and pow<rr than e'er dwelt 
Within an armed host of mortal men. 
What if within the bounds of mortal life 
There is a spirit-world of mystery, 
Whose magic wonders wait to be explored 
By mortals who unconsciously pass by? 
Oh, what a wonder-land might be revealed 
To the aspiring being who would dare 
Step o'er the line that bounds this strange domain, 
And search the mystic kingdom through and through, 
'Tis midnight now, and all is calm and still; 
No sound I hear to break the heavy calm 
That weighs its solemn silence on my soul; 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS- 55 

It seems a time for spirits to appear, 

For even in the shadows of the tent 

I seem to see strange forms, fantastic shapes, 

All swiftly minting in a mass confused — 

'Tis hut imagination, straying wild. 

Playing her tricks of weird deception. 

Enter Mvra arrayed in female garments. 

Fia! 
What's this? what is this vision? O ye gods! 

Mvra. Be not afraid, O mortal, for no ill 
Dwelis in the world from whence T have been called. 

Lean. T do not fear, I am confused, amazed! 
And in a whirl of strange bewilderment. 

Myra. And wherefore? I am but a woman's spirit, 
For a brief time to mortal state returned; 
See. thou canst touch me and thy living sense 
Receives the evidence that I am here, 
lint as the first soft rosy ray of dawn 
Glows in the East. I'll vanish from thy sight 
And be no more; this is not strange, I think. 
At least, 'lis not to me. 

Lean. ]\Iy mortal eyes 

Ne'er gazed upon a form more beautiful 
Than thine. Ye gods! methinks I am bewitched! 

Myra. The beauty which you gaze and dvvell upon 
Is mortal and unworthy of esteem. 

Lkan. Who art thou? and from what ethereal world, 
Where beauty dvvel's to thrill the heart with love, 
Till all the being, bliss enravished. dreams 
And trembles in an ecstasy of joy, 
Hast thou in all thy grace and glory come? 

MvKA. Whence I am come, can nev^er be disclosed 
To ears material, but you may know 
I am a mortal woman's spirit, one. 
Called Myra, sister unto Calydon 
With whom thou didst confer on sacred things; 
'Twas he who summoned me with sacred rites 
To thus appear before thee. 



56 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Lean. Beauteous one, 

If there is aught upon this mortal earth, 
Within the power physical of man, 
Or in the reach of his aspiring mind. 
Or aught beyond its boundaries concealed 
Within that world majestical that lies 
With its dominions vast, obscured and dim, 
And from whose distant court of mysteries 
Thou hast in all thy grace and beauty come — 
Tf there is aught therein which I can do 
That may be well or pleasing in thy sight. 
Then speak, sweet being, and it shall be done, 
Though to perform it, I must give my life 
And be as thou, a spirit; it would be 
The sweetest sacrifice that could be made; 
And but thy love I'd ask as my reward. 

Myka. O changeful mortal, fickle as the winds! 
Why, Calydon told me you laughed at love, 
And scorned such sweet emotions of the iieart 
As woman often makes in human breasts; 
That thou didst scoff at woman and deride 
The tender hopes engendered through her love; 
That thou didst deem her in her beauty graced. 
Not made for love, but merely formed to please; 
And now thou fain wouldst swear eternal love: 
How is this pray? 

Lean. O thou immortal spirit. 

When I spoke in that rash and thoughtless way, 
'Twas as a being living in the night, 
Who laughs to scorn the radiance of day, 
Because its splendor is to him unknown; 
But as the being suddenly awakes 
Amidst a halo of celestial light 
Wherewith the day has overwhelmed the night, 
So have T waked unto the matchless joys 
That dwell in woman's love; the night is past. 
And all the goMen light of glorious day 
Flows through my heart in ecstasies of bliss. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS, 57 

Sweet clay, wilt thou consent to always shine? 

Myra. Oh, foolish mortal, thine impulsive heart 
Thy reason sweeps before its passion's force. 
Nay, nay, thou never canst be aught to nie. 

Lean. Oh, say not so; I'll give up all on earth, 
Ay, even life itself, to be near thee. 

Myra. Thou art profane. O mortal, calm thyself; 
Look not on me with such impassioned gaze; 
I am beyond thy mortal fancy far; 
'Tis .sacriligious to regard me thus. 

Lean. Although the gods condemned me for my love. 
Yet would I hurl defiance at them all. 
And still give ear unto my throbbing heart. 
That cl imors for the utterance of its thoughts; 
Still would T love thee, though the thundei-bolt 
Of mighty Ares killed me on the spot. 

Ah KA. Oh. rude profanity! I'll hear no more! 

Exit Myra. 

Lean. {Folloiuin^ her to the door.) Leave me not thus, 
stay, gentle spirit, stay! 
He not so cruel, stay! alas! 'tis gone! 
In what a state confused my mind is placed! 
My stricken heart tumultuously doth bi at 
As if witii dull despair, and all my br lin 
Doth seem bewildered; can this maiden be 
Of supernatural form? 'tis strange indeed; 
I would that she were mortal, for my heart 
Might then find for its love a recompense — 
What's this? a ribbon? bv the gods! it is; 
Do spirits leave such evidence behinrl? 
P>y Aphrodite's girdle. I think not! 
This seems most mortal and material; 
Pollux! perchance this spirit, self-avowed, 
Is aTter a'l, a maid of fiesh and blood. 
Yet so ethereal and beautiful 
That she doth seem like some divine perfection; 
This Calydon perchance hath played some trick 
Whose very boldness was its own success, 



58 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

And now the knave is laughing at the cheat: 
To-morrow I will search this matter through; 
If my suspicions but well-founded prove, 
This lovely maiden yet shall be mine own; 
Gods grant 'tis not too joyous to be true. 
I'll wear this ribbon near unto my heart, 
Until I find my love. Now I'll to rest 
If but my throbbing heart will grant me leave, 
For on the morrow T have mucli to do. 

Lies doivn on a couch and sleeps. 
Re-enter Myka in pai^e's costume. 
Myra. Now doth he sleep; my bold and artful trick 
Hath worked with full success upon his heart; 
He hath avowed he loves me, though he thinks 
I am some spirit from a ghostly world; 
How much more will he love me when he finds 
I am a mortal being like himself 
Alas! if I could only be assured 
No evil to Orestes had occurred. 
I might be happy. O ye gracious gods, 

all ye ministers to mortal woes, 

1 pray ye with protection kindly look 
Upon my brother; guide him, T beseech, 
Through all the dangers that beset his path, 
And bring him safely to my arms again. 

Lies dowti on a couch beside Leander. 
O gentle slumber, visit thou mine eyes. {Sleeps.) 

Enter Orestes 7vith a dagger in his hand. 

Ores. Ye gods, oh, aid me; let your power great 
Invest my arm, that when I strike this blow, 
That shall be made for Athens' liberty, 
It may not fail in its commissioned work. 

Goes up to Leander's couch and stands over him with 
the dagger raised. 

How calmly and how peacefully he sleeps. 
Rut even calmer will he slumber soon; 
My soul relents and almost shrinks from this 
Fierce, bloody deed of death; but I am weak: 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 59 

Brace up, my heart, and with a movement stern 

Beat this brave Spartan's death-knell; let my spirit 

Be as thouq;h formed of iron. Now O gods, 

My very life shall in this blow be thrown. {He raises the 

dagger to strike; Mvra awakes, sees him and springing 

up, seizes his aryn and stricg^fles with hitn.) 

M\RA. Help! help! Zeiotes! help! Harmonis! help! 

Lp:ander aivakes and springs from his couch. 

Lean. Immortal gods! what doth this tumult mean.^ 

Grasps his sword and rushes on Orestes. 
Accurst assassin! throw thy dagger down! 

Enter Zelotes, Harmonis, ArtiiMas and guards. 

Orestes frees himself from Mvra and turns to meet 
Lfander. 

Ores. Not till its blade is buried in thy breast. {He 
strikes at Leander, dut is caught and pinioned from behind 
by Zelotes and Harmonis, assisted by guards.) 

Myra. {Aside ) Oh, how familiar sounds that voice 
to me. 

Lean. Bind him securely, guards, and watch him well. 
Who is this murderous minion? Hold a torch, 
That 1 may gaze upon his treacherous face. 

Artemas holds a torch before Orestes' /a^^. 

MvRA. {Aside.) MerciUil gods! it is Orestes! Oh! 
What evil chance hath lured him to this camp? 
If he sliou^d happen to discover me, 
'Twere ruin to us both. 

Lean. Do any here 

Know who this bold assassin is? or how 
He hath come hither? 

Guards. No. we cannot tell. 

Lkan. {To Orestes.) Then unto thee the question 
will I put, 
And ere thou answer'st, do thou think of this — 
Thy life is in our hands, so speak the truth; 
WIto art thou? and by whom hast thc>u been sent 
To do iliy murderous work? and by what means 
Didst thou an entrance gain into our camp? 



GO A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Ores. Had I a thousand lives, and ever}' one 
Was in thy power to destroy or give. 
No threat of thine could force me to disclose 
Aught that 'twas my intention to withhold; 
Who sent me hither, thou shalt never know. 
Though you should tear me slowly limb from limb; 
But I am proud to own I am of Athens; 
So much thou shalt know, and if thou wilt search. 
You'll find upon the out posts lying dead, 
A sentinel: now canst thou not divine 
By what means I gained entrance to your camp? 

Lean. Yes, and upon the morrow thou shalt die. 

Myra. {Aside.) That sentence like a dagger cuts my 
heart! 

Ores. With only one regret will T expire, 
Which is that I have failed to do my work. 

MvRA. {Aside.) This is the dread commission he re- 
ceived — 
The cruel murder of Leander: ah! 
It was a sad mistake; alas! alas! 
No evil deed can bring a good result. 

Lean. Go, take that messenger of death away, 
And guard him well, look to it, guard him well, 
For on the morrow he shall pay his life 
As the just penalty for his fell plot. 

Exetmt Zklotes. Harmonis, Artemas rt«^ guards with 
Orestes. 

And, Calydon, to thee I owe my life. 
Sincerely do I thank thee for thine ad. 
Oh, treacherous the time of war has grown. 
When in his tent a soldier cannot sleep 
Without the fear of an assassin's knife. 
But yet another blow and this long war 
Will be forever buried in the past. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 61 



ACT V. 
Scene I. Spartan Camp. Leander's te^ii. 

Leander, Zklotes and Hakmonts discovered in the 
foreground 

Lean. There is a rumor current that proclaims 
This bloody war is ended, for it says 
Theranianes of Athens hath come forth, 
And in the name of all his countrymen, 
He is commissioned with our king to treat 
For peace and ending of hostilities; 
And if the rest b*- true that rumor states, 
A certain stipulalioti hath been made, 
Which is, that conquered Athens must tear down 
One mile in length of each of her long walls; 
This is to be a surety of faith; 
She is to still retain her liberty; 
So if this treaty she'll consent to sign. 
She will have made her i^eace with all her foes. 

Harmo. But will she to this treaty give consent? 
I doubt it much indeed: her spirit proud 
Will not this great liumi iation brook. 

Zelo. .She is in no condition to resist: 
Her citizens are famishing ior bread, 
She catmot choose but bow her haughty iiead. 

Hakmo. If this be true, the night assault we planned 
Is rendered useless, and need not be made. 

Lean. Yet this is but a rumor, and we know 
That bare-faced rumor oft outrages truth; 
So hold the army still in readiness. 
And if of this no further news we hear, 
Or if. it being true, should Athens still 
HoUl out in her resistance obstinate. 



C2 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

Why then to morrow night, with crushing blows, 

We'll bring this war unto a speedy close. 

And now, to give attention unto things 

That should receive immediate regard: 

Bring forth the man — that rash Athenian— who 

Sought to assassinate me yesternight. 

Zklo. He shall be brought at once, my lord. 

Exit Zelotes. 

Li:an. 'Tis v\ell. 

Now by the gods! if justice doth exist. 
It shall be meted out to this bold wretch: 
The blade he sought to bury in my breast, 
Shall as a witness at his own life aim. 
For he shall die before the sun is down. 

Enter ZErvrpES. fjllowed by MVKA dressed m OiJE^TSS' 
costume and conduBed by Aktem.xs. 

Zelo. Here is the prisoner. 

Lt^an Come, bring him hither. 

Thou art the man who sought to take my life? 

MvRA. Not T, my lord, I never sought thy life. 

Lean. What dost thou say? Castor! 'tis Calydon! 
Why, what has happened? why this strange disguise? 
Explain, what means this transformation, pray? 

Myra. Upon my knee your pardon do I crave 
For having pra6liced such deceit on thee. 

Lean. Why art thou brought to me instead of him 
For whom I sent? come, answer, I command. 

Myra. During the night I took his place, as you 
Had sentenced him to death. f/)r by my life, 
He was the truest friend T ever had. 

Lean. Now by great Zeus! traitor that thou art, 
How has this deed of treachery been done? 
Where is the soldier who was placed on guard 
To watch the prisoner? 

Arte. My lord, 'twas T. 

Lean. Thou careless fool! thus is it you perform 
Your duty! speak and tell naught but the truth — 
What dost thou know of this deceptive trick? 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHE;M3. 63 

Arte. IMy lord, T swear to thee I guarded well 
Through all the weary tiiglit the prisoner's tent; 
All that I know of this affair 111 state— 
This morn an hour ere the break of day. 
Came Calydon to me and in thy natiie. 
An interview demanded with my charge, 
Whereon, T did admit him to the tent; 
Soon after, as I thought, he reappeared; 
At least, there in the dim light of the dawn, 
1 recognized the co-tume he had worn 
When first the tent he entered: thought of wrong 
Ne'er for an instant flashed across my brain; 
So he whom I mistook for Calydon 
Passed onward till in darkness he was lost; 
And when thou for the prisoner didst send. 
I took this youth and hither led the way; 
Still yet no thought of ill had crossed my mind 
Till thou didst recognize in him I brought, 
Yoimg Calydon. 

Myka. Yes, all is true, my lord. 

To save this poor Athenian's life condemned, 
1 changed my garb for his, a.ul took his place, 
Thus aiding his escape. 

Lkan, Then shalt thou die; 

For since you took his place as prisoner. 
You shall liis condemnation also take; 
'Twill for thy treachery be j ist reward. 
( To Aktkmas ) Take him away, let h'm for death prepare, 
For he shall die at sunset. 

Myka. Dost forget 

'Tvvas I who saved thy life but yester night? 

Lean. True, thou didst save my life, but that does not 
Excuse thy treachery, or change thy guilt. 

MvKA. Tf thou didst know all. then thou wouldst forgive; 
O 1, grant me but an interview with thee, 
Wliere none miy hear us; I will tell thee all. 

Lean. What! send my guard away and leave thee free 
To u ;e thy d ig^ *r on me? Thoigh so young 



C- A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

I see thou art as cunning as a fiend; 

And thou in whom I had reposed such trust, 

Thou whom T had already learned to love. 

Myka. Thou dost me great injustice, 1 do swear; 
Would I have saved thy life if such intents 
Held an abiding place within my heart? 

Lean. We cannot a' ways fathom traitors' a6l->, 
For deeds that seem commendable and fair, 
Are often but the shields of blackest sin; 
Ikit think not that I fear thee, 'tis not so, 
I'll grant the interview for which you ask — 
Go, leave us, all. I'll hear this youth's defence. 

Exeunt Zelotks, Harmoms and Aktemas. 

MvKA. Thou hast itideed but little cause to (ear. 

Lean. We are alone. 

MvKA. i/lside.) Alas! and sinre 'tis so, 

I fear to tell the truth: mv poor heart shrinks 
From this confession I am bound ti> make. 

Lean. What art thou saying? 

MvKA. O relentless fate! 

That forces this confession fraught with shame. 
Ah. good Leander, I am much distrauglit; 
Look on nit- with coiupassion: })ity me. 

Lean. What canst thou mean? 

Mvra. I am not what I seem. 

Lean. Thou art indeed a mystery to me. 

Mvi-'A I am a woman. 

Lean. Thou a woman? thou? 

NTvKA. A'as! 'tis true, and being thus confessed. 
Helpless before thee, wilt thou not relent, 
Am] pardon me? 

Lean. Ve gods niajestical! 

I am amazed! how has this come to pass? 
Why hast thou come disguised into our camp? 
Art thou a cursed spy? a traitress here? 
A woman who for intrigues of the state 
Hath all the instinds of Jier sex forgot. 
Outraging maiden modesty and truth, 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 6; 

T<"> hi! her ronie ajid play her treachery? 

A tool u-;e i for thy nation's basest deeds? 

r.nt who. when death-confronted, shrinks with fear, 

And pit-ads for mercy? 

Mvi<\. 'Tis not so. I swear. 

I.KAN. Now fl«> T see the fullness of thy guilt, 
And all thine a6tions stranj^e which I had marked, 
Now with their ciinnin^^ motives stand reveale 1. 

Myka. 1 vow to thee, I'm g^ui'tv of no wronji^ 
Save t!iis diso;uise. 

I.KAN. Oh. 1 have fathomed thee 

Far better than thou tliinkest, and thy trick 
I> n )w exphiined; 'twas thou who vester-night 
.Soui^^ht as a spirit to impose thyself 
Upon a too indiilj^fent auditor: 
r.nt f w IS not dt^ceived, for look you here — 
Whf-n iho'i didst sjo, thou didst behind thee leave 
This tibhon that betrayed thee unto me: 
Wilt thou df-ny this. w(^man? 

MvK- \. 'Twas but an innocent and s;irlish prank, 
As void of evil as my bleeding; heart; 
'Twas tliv request to be amused that first 
Sus^gested it to me, and nothing more. 

I-KAN. Metiiinks thy words are false as Pluto's smile; 
Oh. T had loved thee, wert thou not so base! 

MvKA. Oh. all ye j2:'>ds. bear witness to my grief! 
I am mi-judged and wronged. 

LvAN. I would 'twere so. 

]-^or if T thought that, then would I rejoice 
Tn finding ihee still pnre and innocent; 
r.nt to be'ieve thee guiltless were to doubr 
The e\ idence my senses have bestowed 

MvRA. But all I can explain if thou'lt but deign 
To hear my story with a patient ear. 

Lk\.v. Thy falsehoods are already manifol 1, 
-Make them tio greater. 

MvKA. Listen, oh, T pray, 

T will convince th^e, though against thy will; 



G6 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

When thou dost learn of all the j^riefs and ills 
That I have suffered, thou wilt pity me. 
Two days ago. ah! woful was the hour! 
Orestes, my brave brother and sole friend — 
A warrior in the Athenian ranks — 
Was on a mission dangerous despatched, 
The nature of which I was unaware; 
At night, when he had gone, a certain chief, 
Who vainly had my hand in marriage sued. 
Sent unto me a messenger who told 
A dreadful story of my brother's fate. 
Announcing him as wounded nigh to death; 
And praying me to come ere he was dead; 
I. half distrafted, fcjl'owed whither led. 
And was condu(5ted to the chieftain's house. 
There to discover 1 had been decoyed 
To honor's fell destru6lion. which to save 
I slew the villain who my ruin sought; 
And to escape the penalty I feared 
Migiit overtake me if I there rf'mained. 
I fled from Athens with my maid, and then 
In page's guise we sought protedlion here, 
Telling as much truth as we safely could 
Without betraying unto thee our sex: 
Last night, when from the dagger's cruel point 
I saved thy life, I found I had but placed 
My brother's life at stake, for he it was 
Who aimed the fatal weapon at thy breast: 
This his commission was; but think you now 
How all my soul was frenzied at the thought 
Of his life forfeited; 'twas in despair, 
I formed the plan by which he did escape 
Could I do less than this? You do not still 
Doubt what I tell thee? 

Lean Nay. thy truthful eyes 

Speak with tiie purity of all thy soul. 

Myra. And wilt thoji my deception then forgive? 

Lean, 'Tis I wtio for f)rgivenes-; m lU implore; 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. C7 

How I have wronged thee; how I have misjudged 
Thy gentle nature and thy noble heart; 
'Twas my impulsive spirit mad with rage 
That so misled me. 

Myra. I have well deserved 

Thy censure. 

Lean. Nay, fair lady, 'tis not so; 

I beg thou wilt allow me to atone 
For my ill-treatment of thee, 

Myra. So ihou shalt, 

By sending me in safety from your cam;) 
To refuge find in Sparta's boundaries, 
I'^or unto Athens I cannot return. 

Lean. Hut wilt thou not in my protection trust? 
Oh, stay thou here and I will shelter thee 
I-'rom every danger and from every ill. 

Myra. Nay, that is now i npossible to do; 
I""or since ihou knowest me for what I am, 
I bush with shame as I behold my garb 
And f lin would go and hide myself from thee; 
Nay, modesty demands that [ return 
Unto the habits that become my sex. 

Lean. You speak the trutii: 'lis right you should do so; 
An escort shall condu6t thee to the gates 
Of Sparta, in whose shelter, rest secure. 

Myra. And may the gods reward thy noble deeds; 
Your kindness far exceeds what I deserve 

Lean. Nay, you are wrong: couldst thou but read my 
heart. 
And there beho'd the grief and bitter pain 
That weighs upon its adion at the thought 
Of all the wrong I've done thee, thou wouldst know 
That no atonement I could tender thee. 
Would still the pangs of deep remc>rse I feel. 
Would to the gods I might live o'er again 
This day's brief hours now forever past. 

Mvra. Oh, pray be not so hard upon thyself: 
How couldst thou know until I told thee all? 



GS A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

No harm has come to me, and all is well. 

Lkan. Ah, could I but believe thy heart forgave 
As freely as thy tongue, then might I think 
The future held much happiness for me. 

MvRA. Then be that happiness entirely thine. 
For 1 protest both heart and tongue forgive. 

Lean, Thou dost not know what happiness I mean. 

Myra, What wouldst thou say? 

Lean. That more than life itself 

I love thee; and since yester-night when thou 
Didst all thy beauties unto me reveal, 
Thine image hath been graven on my heart 
By that great sculptor, tliought, whose chisel is 
Sweet memory; I'd forfeit everything 
To gain thy hand, save honor, which must live 
To make me worthy of thy love; O spenk. 
And say you do not scorn me. 

MvRA. Scorn for thee 

Could iie'er my bosom enter. 

Lean. Lady fair, 

You thrill my heart with ecstasy; perchance 
My passion is not vain? 

MvRA. Love never is; 

It cannot be save when 'tis insincere, 
For true love shows bow noble is a man. 

Lean. And does mine meet with favor in your eyes? 

Myra. Why should it not. since I am but a boy? 
You may adopt me, and, as you have said, 
Make me thine heir. 

Lean. All I possess is thine; 

But tell me, maiden, if thou lovest me. 

Myra, Since I do hate ihee not, love thee I must. 

Lean. Ah, you are bound to turn my love to jest. 

Myra. Yet there is reason in what I have said. 

Lean. But reason is not love; love do I seek: 
Wilt thou deny it? 

Myra. I will answer thee 

When we in Sparta meet. 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 69 

Lean. That, lovely maid, 

May never be; give me an answer now; 
For war's a most uncertain game to play, 
And I would know thy heart while life is mine: 
Forebodings are upon my soul impressed 
Of some dark evil that is yet to come. 

MvRA. The gods forbid! Oh. dost thou think that death 
Will overtake ihee? 

Lean. That I cannot tell, 

And if yon love me not, 1 do not care. 

MvKA. But I do love thee; all my heart is thine, 
And to thy keeping do I give my life. 

He takes her in his arms. 

Lean. As sacred as the temples of the gods 
Shall thy sweet trust be kept; this very day 
To Sparta I'll despatch a messenger. 
Who with a priest shall speedily return 
And make our hearts and souls a single life 
Forever in communion sweet to dwell. 

MvRA. May Aphrodite smile upon our love. 

Lean. {Ktssifiir her.) Here on thy lips could I forever 
dwell 
To draw sweet ne^lar, fraught with mortal bliss 
From their soft crimson portals. 

Myra. Foolish man, 

Thus to caress a boy. 

Lean. Were boys as sweet 

As thou, I would have cause to cherish them. 

MvRA. But I must go and find my waiting-maid, 
That we may in our proper garments robe. 

Lean. But stay, thy name thou hast not told me yet. 

Myra. My name is Myra; does it please thine ear? 

Lean. As music from some sweet enchanted lute. 

Exeunt. 

Enter Orestes dressed in the page's costume previously 
worn by Myra. 

Ores. Since I have been ordained to do this deed, \ 
Grim danger and gaunt death no power have 



70 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

To change my purpose. Be my efforts crowned 
With faikire or success, yet will I seek 
To do my deadly work. Whatever comes 
My troubled life will soon be at an end; 
These Spartans lie in wait to strike me dead, 
For by my aftion past am I foredoomed. 
I)arisas now shall see I do not fear 
To die for Athens' sake — but Myra! oh, 
What could have brought her hither? Yester-night 
She would not tell me aught, but bade me go, 
Assuring me she would be safe: I fear 
I did not right to leave her in this camp; 
If she has suffered aught, it will be sweet 
To know I have avenged her by the d -aHi 
Of this bold general; so come what mny. 
My fixed design shall executed be. 
I'll hide near by, and patiently await 
A chance to send Leancler to his gods, 

Or down below to Hades and the fiends. {Exit.) 

Enter Leander, Zelotes aftd Hakmonis. 

Lean. A message from the government doth sta'e 
This war is ended : treaties have been signed 
That unto all the states therein engaged 
Grant peace and liberty; our obje6l high. 
Supremacy of Athens to prevent. 
Is now attained, wherefore, let all rejoice. 

Harmo. The gods be praised! that have diredted this. 

Zelo. Sparta should place her heel on Athens' neck. 
Instead of granting peace and liberty. 

Lean. But I have more to tell you, which is this: 
The pages who two days ago were brought 
Into our camp, were women in disguise, 
Who for their lives from Athens hither fled, 
For in their native state they were much wronged; 
The one who set our doomed prisoner free, 
Did what was natural, and what we all 
Would in her place have done; her brother 'twns 
She aided to escape; how can we blnme 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 71 

Such sisterly devotion? Now these maids 
Desire unto Sparta to he sent. 
Where they may dwell securely; hence, I need 
A trusty escort to conduft them thither. 

Harmo. My services I gladly tender thee. 

Lean Zelotes, go and have a guard prepared. 

Exit Zelotks. 

Harmo. In person I the escort will condu6t 
If thou wilt grant permission. 

Lean. That will I; 

My mind will be relieved to know their guide 
Is worthy of his trust — See, here they come; 
How beautiful she is; how pure and fair. 

Enter Myr\ and Eunice in /einate costume. Myra ad- 
vances to Leander who takes her in his arms. 

Harmo. ( To Eunice.) So thou wert fooling me, thou 
roguish maid; 
I'^or this deceit, you must a forfeit pay. 

Eunice. What forfeit dost thou mean? 

Hakmo. Thy heart. 

EuNicK. Alack! 

If I should say I never shall behold 
He who can move my heart to lo\e, what then? 

Harmo. Sometimes when beauty is most confident, 
Then is she rudely taken unawares, 
Ensnared and deftly captured, he::rt and soul; 
So may it be with thee, fair one, so pray 
Be not too boastful of thy powers great 
To keep the maiden fortress of thy heart 
Impregnable unto assailing foes, 
Who aim love's lances at its snowy walls. 

EuNfCE. I grant thee, this philosophy of thine 
Is fraught with reason, and convidlion too, 
When you stand forth as the philosopher. 

Harmo. Come thou with me, for I have much to say. 

Exeunt Eunice and Harmon is. 

Lean. O thou my life! my fate! my heart's delight! 
Thou art a brilliant star divinely set 



72 A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 

High in the heaven of my mortal bliss. 

Myra And thou art more to me than all the world. 

Lean. I have good news, sweet Myra, for thine ears: 
Fair countenanced peace once more established is 
Between confliding states. Within two days 
In Sparta I will join thee; there will we, 
Beside the sacred altars of our gods, 
Witii fitting rites our marriage celebrate, 
Instead of in this rude and uncouth camp. 

MvRA. Such rapture seems too perfe<5t to exist; 
The gods are kind. Now since this cruel war 
Is at an end, once more in safety I 
May see my brother; true, he sought thy life, 
But wilt thou not forgive him for my sake? 

Lean. Yes, for it was his patriotic soul 
Which must have armed him for his bloody deed. 

Myra. Now must I for my journey go prepare. 
Farewell, Leander. 

Lean. Farewell, Myra, love. 

Exit Myra. 
Sweet one, you nevermore shall know a care, 
If life's devotion can its coming stay. 

Walks toward his tent. Enter Orestes 7vho springs for- 
ward and stabs him. 

Ores. Now is my work accomplished: witness gods! 

Leander falls, then totters to his feet and draws his 
sword. 

Lean. Oh! damned treachery, that worketh thus! 
Ho! guards! come hither! treason! treason! help! 
Thou curst assassin, double is thy crime! 

Strikes at Orestes, but his szvord drops front his grasp 
and he falls dead. 

Enter Zelotes, Artemas a7id guards. 

Zelo. Who calls for aid? The furies! this curst wretch 
Hath reappeared to do his treacherous work! 
Die then! and Hades' tortures be thy fate! 

Stabs Orestes. 

Artemas and Guards. {Also stabbing him ) Thus do 



A DAUGHTER OF ATHENS. 73 

we all avenge thy bloody dei^cV. 

Enter Eunice and Harmonis. 

Ores. O gods! {Sinks down and dies. Eunice bends 
over him weeping. The Soldiers gather around the form 
of Leander.) 

Harmo. {Standing over Leander's body.) Alas! alas! 
his life is o'er 
Whose heart the moment past beat high with health; 
Mortality, we are thy subje6ts all. {Covers LEANDER's/rt<:^ 
with his robe. Mvra is heard Liughiug and talking in the 
distance.) 

Myra. Leander! 1 have something to impart! 
And 'tis a merry tale! One of thy guards, 
Who chanced to see me, fell down at my feet, 
Believing me some goddess from the skies! 

Enter Mvra. 
The foolish fellow was affrighted — {She pauses in sur- 
prise.) Why! 
Where is Leander? Eunice, what means this? 
Why weepest thou? Whose form lies at thy feet. 
To give thee cause for lamentations wild? 
If he be hurt, tears will not heal his wound; 
But who is he? {Advances to the body.) 
Orestes! O ye gods! 

Eunice. Nothing can heal his wound, for it is death! 

Myra. {Sinking dozun and sobbing.) Oh! oh! hast thou 
forever left me? ah! 
How can I live without thee? thou whose life 
Was linked to mine with such devoted love! 
What cursed hand laid thy dear head so low? 
Oh, horrible! thy bosom gaps with wounds! 
But thou shalt be avenged, and quickly too. {Starting up 
and turning to the guard) * 

Where is Leander? he shall know of this. 
And woe to him who did this dreadful deed! 
For justice shall be visited on him; 
Yea, I will be revenged! Where is your chief? 

Harmo. I fain would tell thee not. 



74 A DAUGHTER OF ATI-IEN'S. 

Myra. But I will know. 

Harmo. {Motioning- the ^niards away from Lkandek's 
body.) Then, lady, there behold him, stricken down 
By yonder dead Athenian's murderous blade. 

Myra. What dost tbou say? Ye gods! I shall go mad! 
My love, art thou too slain? and by the hand 
Of mine own brother? 'Tis a bitter hour! {Kneels by "Lis.- 
ANDKR's/c?rw weeping, and draivs the robe from his face.) 
Black, woful chapter of unending ills! 
Oh, can this horror be reality, 
Or do I dream? Ye miserable fates. 
Why have ye let me live until to-day? 

Eunice. Oh, how my spirit echos that sad cry! 

Myra. My heart is broken! Life is worse than death 
Since thou art gone. I'll not survive thee long: 
Here with thy sword I give my life to thee! 

Stabs herself. 
Upon thy bosom shall my fleeting soul 
Be borne unto the keeping of the gods. 

Falls on the body and dies. Eunice faints in Haumonis' 
arms. 

CURTAIN. 



£niscellQneous Poems. 



TO A ROSE. 

Sweet blushing rose, thou art the regal queen 
Of Flora's bright and wildering domain; 

Upon thy native throne of richest green, 
Thou dost in all thy perfeft beauty reign. 

The gentle zephyrs round thee softly play, 
And touch thy budding lips with kisses sweet. 

'Till 'neath thy subtle perfume's rapturous sway, 
They bear away thy scents on pinions fleet. 

O'er brake and meadow, over hill and valt- , 
Thine odors rich, voluptuous, they waft. 

'Till every breath that nature doth exhale, 
Comes in a sweet intoxicating draught. 

The buzzing bees sing love-songs unto thee, 
As on thy crimson heart they softly rest. 

And while they sing, behold! with busy glee. 
They steal the golden honey from thy breast. 

How glorious thou art at break of day. 

When wakened from thy slumbers, soft and sweet, 
By some melodious robin's tuneful lay. 

Who thus the advent of the morn doth greet. 

Then like a cluster rich of jewels bright. 

The dew-drops dazzling crown thy crimson head, 
Refleding all the hues of dawning light. 

That from Aurora's pearly wings are shed. 

iMclhinks thy tinted petals may conceal 
Some fairy worker of thy wonders sweet, 

Who from thy bosom beautiful will steal. 

When she hath made thy rai)tures all complete. 



The Fairy Queen. 77 

And yet I know a rose as fair as thou, 
Altlioiigh whose blush is not as deep as thine; 

A rose with crimson lips, and pure white brow, 
A rose of womanhood with eyes divine. 

And for her sake I'll pluck thee, blushing rose, 
Despite the thorns that guard thy fair domain; 

In her soft golden locks thou shalt repose; 
The crown that graces beauty's gentle reign. 



THE FAIRY QUEEN. 
— X — 

In yonder wood there is a dell. 
Where flowers in profusion sweet, 
The senses with rare perfumes greet, 

And there methinks the fairies dwell, 
And sprites in nightly revel meet. 

Her beauty nature there unveils, 
For by the wild and crimson rose, 
The violet with fragrance grows, 

And there the sweet arbutus trails. 
And hark! a tinkling streamlet flows. 

There on the mossy bank behold! 
Tiie daisies have but lately grown, 
And lo! upon a verdant throne, 

The buttercup, arrayed in gold. 

Makes to the world its beauties known. 

In yonder dark yet placid pool. 
The water-lily slakes its thirst, 
While buds in wondrous beauty burst, 

Kissed by 5 he breezes, balmy, cool. 
And by llie hand of nalure nursed. 



78 The Fairy Queen. 

There on a flowered mound, perchance — 
When night her dusky kingdom sways, 
And mortals dwell in dreamland's maze — 

The sprites and fairies madly dance, 
To strains the wind aeolian plays. 

Once as the first warm blush of Spring, 
O'erspread majestic nature's face, 
The scars of Winter to displace; 

When winds like censers sweet did swing 
Rich odors through the realm of space; 

I wandered through this flowery dell, 
Beside a maid of grace untold: 
Of beauty wondrous to behold; 

On whose brown locks the sunlight fell. 
And wove a maze of burnished gold. 

She had such eyes! deep orbs of blue; 
And from her cheeks, the rosy flush 
Oft mantled brow with beauty's blush; 

And oh, her lips of crimson hue. 

Would foil the art of painter's brush! 

There as she plucked from banks of green, 
The subje(5ts sweet of nature's reign, 
Wound with the bright dew's crystal chain, 

Methought she was some fairy queen, 
And this her magical domain. 

And ah, I had been well content, 
To dwell on this delightful theme, 
And pause forever in my dream, 

Beneath the charm her presence lent. 
For she so pure and fair did seem. 

And even now, although in thought, 
I roam again that woodland green. 
Beside my charming fairy-queen, 

Till by imagination wrought. 
My mind surveys some wondrous scene. 



Trailing Arbutus. 79 

Wherein my queen her scepter- sways, 
Graced with a crown of silver light, 
Spun from the moon-beams, crystal, white. 

Tinged with the sun's soft, crimson rays, 
And gemmed with stars, resplendent, bright. 



TRAILING ARBUTUS. 
— X — 
Sweet trailing Arbutus, fair flower of Spring: 
Thou comest as a maiden 
With charms richly laden: 
And thy shades nature-born, 
Like the pearl-tints of morn. 
Doth thy beauty adorn. 
Till birds of thy grace in rapt choruses sing. 

Thy petals their delicate beauty display. 
And thy chalice pale-blue. 
Holds the silvery dew. 
That is sparkling and bright. 
With a mystical light, 
As though wept in the night 
By angels who sighed for the advent of day. 

Thou dost on the bosom of earth low recline; 
The wind softly breathing, 
Thy perfume is wreathing, 
With the sun's golden sheen, 
Into glories unseen, 
For some fairyland queen, 
To wear as a crown on her forehead divine. 



CO The Lover's Call. 

LILIAN. 
— X — 
Fair Lilian! so charming and so gay, 

With heaven beaming in ihy dark blue eyes, 
Thy smile is like the blushing dawn of day. 
From which all gloom and shadow swiftly flies. 

Blithe Lilian! thy ways are witching, kind; 

Thou'rt like a sunbeam poised in mad delight 
Upon the restless pinions of the wind, 

Forever sparkling in a dazzling flight. 

Shy Lilian! why grown so strange of late, 
With greeting now so formal and so cold? 

What can this mean, sweet mistress of my fate? 
Hast thou so soon forgot the days of <ild? 

Lost Lilian! fair traitress that thou art! 

With all thy beauty, pure and stainless yet, 
Thou hast a false, deceitful, shallow heart, 

Alas! I rue the day we ever met. 

Yet. when the world shall turn from thee in scorn. 

And deep remorse thy tortured breast shall fill; 
When thy sad heart with vain regret is torn. 

Then will I love thee truly, fondly still. 



THE LOVER'S CALL. 
— X — 

O lady, arise from thy slumbers! 

The countless stars softly are gleaming; 
The nightingale's musical numbers 

Break through nature's mystical dreaming. 
O'er yon mountain's summit, snow-crested, 

The moon, battling shadowy legions, 
Appears with her glory invested. 

As queen of the night's dusky regions. 



The Brightest Orbs. 81 

lady. I long to behold thee! 

To dwell in thine eyes' dusky splendor; 

1 long in mine arms to enfold thee. 

And hear thy words, passionate, tender; 
Oh, then I implore thee, awaken! 

Pray let not thy lover in sorrow, 
Sing on, all alone and forsaken, 

Alas! 'twill be years till to-morrow. 



THE BRIGHTEST ORBS. 
— X — 

1 looked upon the sun that, all ablaze, 
Down the horizon sank to veil its light; 

And as it m^ted there before my gaze, 

I wondered what could be more pure and bright. 

While yet I pondered on this witching theme. 
The crystal moon climbed up her silver stair; 

And, as I marked the softness of each beam, 
I thought: Not brighter, but more pure and fair. 

The stars in space, their beauties half- concealed, 
And thus bespoke of glories all untold. 

1 thought the moon could softer beauty yield; 
The sun could give a richer tint of gold. 

Yet. there is something purer, brighter, still, 
Than all the spheres that circle through the skies; 

That makes my heart vibrate and sweetly thrill- 
It is a pair of soft, entrancing eyes. 

Therein a soul bespeaks its holy truth; 

Therein a heart refleds its faith and love; 
Therein beams all the innocence of youth: 

These dim the lustre of the orbs above. 



82 Dawn. 

SLEEP. 
— X — 

Sweet mistress, Sleep, thou spirit of the night! 

Whose face with slumberous beauty softly beams: 
Thou leadest swift imagination's flight 

Unto the mystic realm of blissful dreams; 
Thy languid eyes, where gentleness doth dwell, 

Woo to destrudlion Nature's peevish woes; 
Thy magic glance's deep and mystic spell 

Through all the being thrills with sweet repose; 
Thy gentle touch is rapturous and sweet, 

Fraught with the wonders of a world obscure. 
Whose splendent maze doth slumbering senses greet 

With ideal shapes too perfe6l to endure: 
Mortality is subject to thy reign. 

And oft explores thy wildering domain. 



DAWN. 

About her mystic form the dusky queen, 

Shade crested night, enfolds her sable robe. 
Begirt with stars whose gold and silver sheen, 

Falls with a ghostly light upon the globe; 
Then from her dreamy reverie she starts, 

And slowly to another realm departs, 
To hold ill conquest dark some new domain. 

Lo! in the East, Aurora, pearly-browed, 
With crimson blushes coloring her face. 

Back from the morn's gray portals draws the shroud. 
And new-born Day peeps through the realm of space, 

Until the sun, ablaze with glorious light, 
Puts everv lingering shadow unto flight. j 

And in his lustrous majesty doth reign. 



Night. 
TWILIGHT. 

The day is dead, and night is yet unborn, 

For twilight, with its evanescent shades, 
Holds dim uncertain sway; in forest glades, 

The sylvan singers, silent and forlorn, 
Sit dull, and heavy-pinioned; winds do mourn. 

And light, deceptive, glimmers, tremb'es, fades. 
The realm of Flora bows to nature's reign; 

Some of her subjeds droop and die apart. 
While others, touched as though by fairy art, 

Un''o1d their charms to grace her fair domiin; 
The frogs croak forth their melancholy strain 

In bass tones that o'er pond and streamlet start. 
The evening star, in majesty alone, 

Reigns silver-crowned on its ethereal throne. 



83 



NIGHT. 

Night, sable queen of darkness, softly steals 

To day's deserted throne; her dusky robe 
She spreads from East to West across the globe, 

And earth's fair beauty ruthlessly conceals. 
The stars shine dimly in the realm of space; 

The moon's bright darts of opalescent light 
Are shattered 'gainst the ebon shield of night, 

And nature slumbers, locked in gloom's embrace. 
Anon the owl. with melancholy tones. 

Sounds forth his moody cry in measured notes: 
The whip-poor-wiU's weird, woful whimper floats 

In dirges drear, the winds convert to moans. 
The trees like spedral .shapes point to the sky, 

And rustling branches murmur, creak and sigh. 



The Deserted Castle, 

THE DESERTED CASTLE. 
— X — 

Upon a liill that overlooks a lake, 
Whose shining: surface doth its shadow take; 
An ancient castle rears its mighty towers, 
All overgrown with mossy plants and flowers: 
While ivy green around its turrets cling. 
In which the bird too long upon the wing 
May pause to take a momentary rest, 
Ere he resumes his flight unto his nest. 
The castle wears a lone, deserted air, 
As though no mortal ever ventures near; 
And though it lies in ancient ruins piled. 
Still lingers in its outline, beauty wild. 
While gazing on the battlements of old; 
I saw them^ filled with gallant knights, and bold, 
Whose helmets shone like fire in the sun 
Like all the passions of their souls undone; 
And who for chivalry and valor's sake. 
Waged hottest war when honor was at stake. 
Then this wild fancy seemed to pass away. 
And in its place left ruin and decay; 
The rusty hinges of the castle gate 
Had long refused to bear its ponderous weiglit; 
And passing through the arch that still remained, 
I reached the court-yard, where confusion reigned; 
There mighty trees, gigantic shadows threw, 
And underbrush in tangled masses grew; 
And through this labyrinth whicli time there wove. 
To find an easy path I vainly strove, 
But struggling on, I reached th-- castle door, 
Whost;; p^iken form the trace of ages bore; 
T ferlftered there and wandered through the halls, 
Where startled echos met the strange footfalls; 
And often I in terror stopped and paled, 
As suddenly some form my sight assailed. 
But finding it was but some mode) cased 
In rusty steel some kn'ght of old had graced; 



The deserted Castle. 85 

Or yet sotiu' paintiiij; from a master's hand 

That still portrayed the inspiration i^rand; 
I onward passed with all my fears subdued, 
Thoui^h still my spirit was with awe imbued. 

T came upon a passage dark and dread, 

Yet I resolved to follow whence it led; 

And stealing softly through the dreary gloom, 
T found it opened on a. lofty room, 

Wliere all tiie hangings were of red and white. 

And faintly shone tiirough colored panes, the light; 
I paused upon the threshold in surprise, 
Before the scene that greeted there my eyes. 

Stretched on the floor, in armor was a knight, 

Whose sword in hand told of a deadly fight; 
While near at hand another form there laid. 
Whose broken brand the siruggle half betrayed; 

But with a glow of courage T advanced, 

And at the silent forms in wonder glanced, 
And turning one to look upon his face, 
I saw a ghastly skull was in its place; 

I started back from the repulsive sight, 

When something gleamed beneath the ghostly light. 
There on the floor before my startled gaze, 
A diamond shone with colors all ablaze; 

T stooped to raise the jewel from the floor, 

Rut as I touched it. inward 'fell a door, 

And in the recess strangely thus disclosed, 
A secret staircase was to view exposed; 

And all was dark and silent as the dead, 

As I descended it with cautious' tread. 

I reached the door below with sinking heart, 
And drew the aged curtains there apart; 

Issuing from the dark ,uk1 silent gloom, 

I stumbled o'er a body in a room, 

From which the sound of rattling bones arose; 
I spcec hless stood, my heart with horror froze; 

For by the flowing robe the figure wore, 

And from the withered locks upon the floor, 



86 Twlllgrht Meditation. 

And by the dagger lying at its side, 
I knew a woman prisoned here, had died. 
In horror from the scene I turned and fled, 
While echoed through the halls my hasty tread, 
Until it seemed as though I were pursued 
By ghostly skeletons with life imbued; 
Not for a moment did T pause or stay, 
Until from that dread castle far away. 



TWILIGHT MEDITATION. 
— X — 

The western sky is flushed with dying day. 

And soft the twilight gathers still and gray, 

As meditation wanders through my brain, 

Recalling moments fraught with joy or pain. 

Until my soul is buried in the shade 

Of scenes left in the breach that time has made; 

And in that breach— the silent past — appears 

— Enshrined in memory through the length of years — 

A woman's form endowed with stately grace, 

With beauty living in her noble face, 

Whose passioned eyes once thrilled my youthful heart, 

And made the blood from thence in rapture start; 

But now of whom the memory lives alone. 

And death will soon call even this its own. 



An Ocean Myth. " 87 

AN OCEAN MYTH. 

The sea was locked in night's embrace, 
I'he stars had silvered heaven's dome, 

The moon had ventured into space, 
And glanced upon the ocean's foam. 

I stood upon a stately ship. 

That rode the swells with graceful ease, 
And watched the crystal moon-beams tip 

With mystic light the rolling seas. 

And as, in contemplation there, 

T gazed upon that shining flood, 
A thrilling cry rang through the air, 

That stopped my heart and froze my blood. 

Then just before the vessel's prow, 

A face rose up from out the deep; 
A look of anguish marked the brow, 

Like one who neared death's endless sleep. 

It turned on me its passioned eyes. 

Full of entreaty, grief and pain, 
Then raised an arm toward the skies 

And sank into the sea again. 

Was it a naiad, or woman fair, 
. Or yet a dream I dreamed awake, 
That rose before my vision there. 
To haunt me till my heart shall break? 



88 A Landscape on the Niagara. 

VESPERS. 

How calm, how holy doth the hour seem; 

Day hatli departed like a golden dream, 
And grayish twilight softly hath unfurled 

Her dusky banners o'er the dark'ning world; 
The vesper bells with clear and silvery peal, 

Like angel voices through the silence steal, 
While in the old cathedral, massive, dim. 

The surpliced boys chant forth the evening hymn. 
Like sweet, celestial choirs that upraise 

Their spirit voices with melodious praise, 
And while the echoes through the arches ring. 

The black-robed priest, with murmured prayer, doth 
swing 
The golden censer; and the organ's peal 

Seems some mysterious message to reveal. 



A LANDSCAPE ON THE NIAGARA. 

The mighty river, broad and winding flows 
Gracefully on; the sun, declining, seeks 
To garnish o'er with gold and crimson streaks 
Its breast of emerald; while softly blows 

The Summer wind across its broad expanse, 
Till countless ripples, gaily, madly dance. 
To music that the rolling water chants. 

And on each side of this majestic stream, 

A lofty bank doth raise its verdant heights, •' 
Bathed in the day's soft, opalescent lights, 
That now are fading like a magic dream. 

At points upon some hill's broad, fruitful breast, 

A little village peacefully doth rest, 

In glory garbed, from the illumined West. 



A Summer Night. 89 

A SUMMER NIGHT. 

'Tis eventide: forth do I roam 

Beneath the stars that softly ji^leam; 
The Hglits, high-swung in heaven's dome, 

Shine with the glamour of a dream. 
The passion flower lifts its head, 

Crowned with a diadem of dew, 
Whose limpid deeps, to crystal wed. 

The moon with silver doth imbue. 

At yonder rugged mountain's base, 

A lake in placid beauty lies, 
Wherein her fair, translucent fact 

Luna surveys, with lustrous eyes, 
And o'er its sapphire surface throws 

A streak of silver, mystic, bright, 
Wherewith the water, as it flows. 

Enkindles opalescent light. 

Here 'neath this lake, perchance there dwells 

A band of nymphs and sirens fair. 
Within a palace built of shells. 

Of jewels, gems and crystals rare; 
Where on a coral throne, the queen 

Of all this watery domain, 
Clad in a robe of gauzy green — 

Pearl-crowned— doth hold her mystic reign. 

And in this fancy could I think, 

The rhythmic soimd of shoreward swells. 
Is but the jingle and the clink, 

Of mermaids ringing silver bells; 
And that the murmur of the wind. 

Weird, wailing as it floats along, 
Whose meaning cannot be divined. 

Is but a siren's luring song. 



90 A Summer Night. 

But lo! the ebon wing of night, 

With fire seems to flash and blaze; 
For clustering there with changing light, 

The fire-flies form a brilliant maze. 
The nightingale with tuneful tongue, 

Chants forth his sweet impassioned lay, 
Whose cadences by breezes swung, 

In dulcet measures die away. 

The realm of roses, red and white, 

The hyacinth and violet. 
Their perfumes ravishing unite, 

With heliotrope and mignonette: 
While oleander on the breeze. 

Comes mingled with magnolia scent, 
Wherewith arbutus and heartsease. 

Are richly, rapturously blent. 

Bright Venus, love's immortal queen, 

Imperial and glorified, 
Garbed in a robe of silver sheen, 

Sheds dreamy love-light far and wide: 
And all the planets flash and beam, 

With luminous eternal light, 
While with a transitory gleam, 

The meteors take their splendent flight. 

O Nature! as I mark thy state, 

The beauty, grandeur that is thine; 
How can I doubt thy wonders great 

Are fashioned by a hand divine? 
For who but God could e'er conceive 

The dread immensity of space. 
And universal glory weave 

Upon a void and empty base? 



The Ruined Nunnery. 91 

THE RUINED NUNNERY. 
— X — 

The sun, with dying g'ory, sinks to rest 

Upon the crimson bosom of the West, 
And dusky tvvihght, gathers still and gray, 
To fill the place left vacant by the day: 

Lo! in the East revolving in its light, 

The moon appears upon the crest of night, 
Emitting sparks of silver that descend, 
Till in the gloom their glowing splendors end; 

And here where nature in her beauty seems 

A glorious ideal of artistic dreams: 

An ancient, moss-grown pile that once arose, 
Its plain but massive grandeur to disclose; 

Lies crumbling 'neath the hand of cold decay, 

That time ordains in its destructive sway. 

Within these walls where silence now doth reign, 
Save for the night-bird's soft melodious strain, 

Or for the breeze, sweet censer of the rose, 

That gently murmurs through the night's repose: 
Once dwelt in holiness, and perfe6l peace, 
Far from the tumult of the world's increase, 

A batid of nuns, like beings half divine, 

In secret worshiji at a sacred shrine: 

Where they commimed with God's eternal throne; 
With prayer and fasting seeking to atone 

For nature's heritage of sin and shame, 

rill death to end their mortal service came. 
And b(jre their spirits unto endless rest. 
To dream in bliss with the immortal blest. 

How often, at the closing of the day. 

As night approached in shadowy array. 

Each black-robed nun would issue from her cell 
With voice and heart the vesper praise to swell, 

And every soul and spirit would unite 

In Ihougiits as pure as heaven's holy light, 



92 The Ruined Nunnery. 

As tliroiio;h the silent cloister's wonted calm 
Arose the stanza of a sacred psalm, 
Until these vaults were ringing with the praise 
That old and young were joining to upraise. 
E'en now they seem to rise before my sight, 
Saintly and pallid in the ghostly light; 
Some old and bent by age's wearing hand 
Seem on the gloomy brink of death to stand; 
While others full of youthful beauty seem 
As fair and radiant as an angel's dream. 
But now these beings slumber with the past: 
Nought that is mortal can forever last; 
For life is but the pathway mortals wend 
To reach their common destiny and end. 
Behold yon crucifix that glimmers white 
Beneath the pale moon's soft, ethereal light! 
How many times have beings pure and fair. 
Bowed down in holiness to worship here — 
Their cold lips pressing to the colder stone 
In homage rendered to the higher throne. 
Now nature only, through her right divine. 
Doth worship at ihis still remaining shrine. 
And lo! this slab of marble white behold; 
Upon its stony surface, dull and cold. 

Perchance some noble woman laid her head. 
Unto the social world forever dead, 
Save for the passion throbbing in her breast. 
That left her soul no sense of peace or rest: 
Here worn with long devotion, sad and deep. 
She sought to rest her weary brain in sleep, 
While in the great world's swiftly moving throng. 
Some frantic lover bore his grief along: 
His true heart breaking on its rack of pain, 
As for her love he longed and sighed \n vain, 
Until his soul succumbing to its grief. 
Found in its own destru<5lion its relief: 
And she in bitter agony of mind. 
Lived out the life she had herself designed. 



Farewell., 93 

Alas, with nature's blessing not content, 
Upon an ideal holy she was bent; 

Tn vain she sought the peace for which she longed; 

Her thirsting soul her woman's heart had wronged, 
And thus her nature, for a time subdued, 
Awoke with all its passioned love renewed. 

They who are always seeking seldom find, 

Because imagination strains the mind, 
And expectation wanders off afar 
To grasp at things as distant as a star. 



FAREWELL. 
— X — 

"F'areweli," alas! thou art the saddest word 

1 hat from the mortal tongue was ever heard; 

So strained and woful in thine effort vain, 

To hide with seeming cheer, thy burst of pain; 

So fraught with hope that struggles with despair, 

Whose conflid o'er the heart strings rage and tear. 

Till all the soul vibrates with silent grief, 

That in expression cannot find relief, 

T'lou art a wish of good, yet thou wast born 

When friends in sorrow were asunder torn, 

Wiien kindred souls were rudely forced to part, 

With tearful eye, with bruised and bleeding heart; 

And yet thy reign of sorrow finds an end, 

When once again in joy. friend meels with friend. 



94- Christmas Chimes. 

CHRISTMAS CHIMES. 

Come, take the holly and the pine, 

The spruce, the cedar and the bay, 
And fadeless garlands deftly twine. 

While birds chant forth a Christmas lay. 

The natal day of Christ! The bells 

In wild tones sound the message forth, 
Till every wind with music swells 

Through East and West, through South and North. 

Ye iron-tongued messengers of peace! 

Strike all your notes of deepest power; 
Let not your joyous utterance cease. 

But speak from every belfry tower. 

O'er city, village, forest, brake; 

O'er mountain, valley, desert, field; 
O'er river, streamlet, brook and lake — 

Let your glad messages be pealed. 

While ye send out wild notes of praise, 

In symphonies that reach the sky, 
A thousand mortal choirs raise 

Their joyous voices to reply. 

While in the unseen realm above. 

Celestial spirits ever sing, 
In notes of tenderness and love; 

To Christ, the world's immortal king. 

Joy everlasting — what a theme! 

It strikes and startles all the soul; 
'Tis perfed as an angel's dream; 

Death-shadows, from its beauty, roll. 



The Dying Tecumseh. ©5 



THE DYING TFXUMSEH. 

Stretched on the earth with grievous wound 

Tecumseh dying lay; 
His warriors had gathered round 

As slowly fled the day. 

With dark and gloomy brows the braves 

Gave token of their grief, 
And swore to make a thousand graves 

In vengeance for their chief. 

Upon his arm Tecumseh raised, 

And on the forest green, 
With fadmg sight, he sadly gazed 

In yearning on the scene. 

"My life has been like yonder oak, 

Uprooted by the storm," 
He faintly said, and, as he spoke. 

Emotion shook his form. 

••Once it, a slender sapling, grew 

Into a mighty tree: 
Refreshed at night by sparkling dew 

It lived in majesty; 

••But then, the north-wind, fierce and loud, 
Raged round its earthly bed, 

Until its stately head was bowed, 
And it was lying dead. 

•'Thus once in happiness I reigned 

Among my native race. 
Until our lands were sought and gained 

By the accurst pale-face. 



96 The Dying Tecumseh. 

"Then, with my warriors, T sought 
Their inroads to withstand, 

And every brave with valor fought 
To save his native land. 

"But fighting is of no avail. 
The pale-face triumphs still, 

He claims each hill and flowered dale, 
And takes them at his will. 

"My braves, once mighty as the bear, 

And as the eagle free, 
Now from the pale-face dogs, in fear, 

Are often forced to flee. 

"Ye fields and forests wild, farewell! 

My spirit soon will flee 
To lands where my forefathers dwell 

In love and unity! 

"There are the happy hunting-grounds 
Where peaceful rivers flow, 

And where the war-whoop ne'er resounds, 
Nor comes the pale-face foe. 

"Farewell." Down drooped his weary head, 
And, as he ceased to speak, 

His brave and noble spirit fled, 
Immortal life to seek. 

The moon crept from her gloomy bed, 
And looked in sadness down 

Upon Tecumseh, lying dead, 
And wove for him a crown. 



A Sylvan Scene. 97 

TO AN ENGLISH LADY. 
— X — 
Fain would we pause ere bidding thee farewell, 

Yet time bides not the feelings of the heart; 
And while with vain regret our bosoms swell, 
We must, perforce, from thee in sadness part. 

When o'er the mighty ocean swiftly bounds 
The stately ship that soon must bear thee hence; 

When naught around thee but the sea abounds, 
May Nature sweetly smile in thy defense. 

May all the sky present an azure crest. 
The glowing sun make glorious the day, 

And may the briny ocean's mighty breast 
Heave with a gentle yet majestic sway. 

May all the stars with iridescent light. 

The silver-pinioned moon — that mystic orb — 
Gleam o'er thy watery pathway through the night. 

Till with their beams the shadows they absorb. 

And when, perchance, at eve thou fall'st asleep. 
May dreams of those whom thou hast left behind, 

Into thy memory through the silence creep, 
Till in thy heart a resting place they find. 



A SYLVAN SCENE. 
— X — 

What matchless beauty wreathed in Nature's smiles, 
Here lifts its wonders to the raptured gaze, 

Whose mystic charm, impressive, deep, beguiles 
Tile soul to revel in its beauteous maze. 

Behold yon tiny streamlet! how it winds 

Through hill and valley like a chain of gold, 

As on its waves the sun effulgent finds 
A glass wherein his glory to behold. 



98 A Sylvan Scene. 

Lo! yonder iiills, that raise their lofty lieights, 
Crowned all with clusters of majestic pines; 

Wrapped in a bluish haze that veils the lights 
Shot from the orb that westward now declines. 

The verdant fields where flowers wild abound, 

Arbutus, daisy, buttercup and rose, 
Stretch from the spot in richness all around, 

Like some sweet realm of fairyland repose. 

And in the distance looms the forest old, 

Where ancient trees like kings in state arrayed, 

Display their leaves of crimson, brown and gold, 
That Autumn soon will leave t<) droop and fade. 

Above, the sky is beautiful and clear, 
Save for a mazy cloud of crimson hue, 

That like a moving island doth appear! 
Set in an ocean vast of softest blue. 

O list! whence comes that music's passioned stream, 

In rich cadences, silvery and sweet, 
That murmuring winds like spirits, half in dream, 

With mystic, rhythmic, measure low repeat. 

Perchance it is some fairy minsirel choir. 
Half mad with nature's majesty and grace; 

An angel's soul outpoured upon his lyre. 
Deep ringing through the airy realm of space. 

Or yet the sirens with sweet luring strain, 
Come from their rocky palace in the sea; 

Seeking for conquest in a new domain, 
To picture joys and dreams that ne'er can be. 

But nay. methinks 1 know the music well; 

All vonder woodland with it seems to thrill. 
For there the feathered songsters' bosoms swell, 

With praises caroled to their Maker's will. 



Christmas Wanderings. 99 

MY IDEAL. 

What dreamy beauty dwells with lustre bright 
Within the dark-blue splendor of thine eyes, 

To thrill the soul with passionate delight, 
Till all the spirit .speaks in rapturous sighs! 

Thy lips are like a ro&ebud half in bloom: 

Soft with the dewy kisses of the wind, 
And redolent with ravisiiing perfume — 

Inviting, witching, maddening, but kind. 

A mass of golden glory is thy hair, 
That like a crown adorns thy shapely head; 

And in those amber tresses, soft and fair, 
The moon, weaves gleaming nets of glinting thread. 

Rose-tinted are tliy cheeks, whereon, like gold, 
The lashes of thy splendent eyes downfall; 

Pure is thy brow, and beauteous to behold; 
Thy form is perfe6t, graceful, stately, tall. 

Thy gentle bosom is so soft and white, 
Where once I saw thee hold a weary dove, 

That it might rest ere it resumed its flight; 
Sweet, tender-hearted maid, thou art my love! 



CHRISTMAS WANDERINGS. 

— X— 

'T\s Christmas Eve, sweet love, and all the world 
Vibrates with joy; the moon,, majestic, bright, 

In all her regal glory sits impearled, 
Upon the sable brow of dreamy night. 

List to the ch\irch bell's deep and solemn toll, 
Upon the wind's great pinions stately borne; 

'Tis but the prelude of the jingling roll. 
That musical will burst upon the morn. 



lOO Christmas Wanderingrs. 

Come love, and wander out beneath Ihe stars, 
That with eternal fire lustrous beam; 

List to the mystic wind's aeolian bars; 
'Tis Nature murmuring in some wondrous dream. 

The perfume of the cedar and the pine, 
Enravishes the night with fragrance rare: 

Take thou some holly, love, and deftly twine 
The green and crimson into garlands fair. 

Pause here awhile, sweet one, and let me place 
These blood-red berries on your golden hair, 

To match the roses of your lovely face; 

Then like a Christmas nymph you will appear. 

If Nature has a soul where joy supreme, 
Can swell with ecstasy its passion deep, 

Then through her being on this hallowed e'en, 
A flood of rapture must unbounded leap. 

Lo! o'er yon mountain's top, where shadows frown, 

A star, with light celestial, ab'aze. 
Like some rich diadem from Nature's crown. 

Unto the earth its majesty displays. 

It is the glittering star of Christmas morn; 

What glory great within its orbit reigns; 
As on its azure throne it sits new-born, 

A million bells break forth in joyous strains. 

Love, though thy form may moulder and decay. 
Thy beauty perish like a rapturous dream, 

Thy gentle spirit pass from earth away, 

Beyond death's black and gloom-accursed stream: 

Yet, art thou not forever lost to me. 

For if I read yon shining star aright. 
There is a world where I may follow thee; 

Unto whose day this life is but the night 



The Ocean. ^^^ 

THE OCEAN. 
— X — 

Vast Ocean! as upon thy realm T gaze, 
Beholding all thy greatness, nature-born, 

Wrapped in the boundaries of an azure haze, 
Nursed in the lap of centuries out-worn: 

My throbbing heart with silent wonder fills; 

My spirit with thy beauty is beguiled; 
My startled soul with deep emotion thrills, 

Before thy rugged grandeur, fierce and wild. 

Thy billows dash foam-crested in the sun, 

In mad career contending for the way. 
Till bursting as they meet, forthwith is spun 

An iridescent cloud of falling spray. 

What mighty storms have o'er thy surface swept; 

Fresh from the passioned deeps of Nature's heart; 
When tiiy great billows fiercely, madly leapt, 

Thus to the gale their grandeur to impart. 

How many countless vessels thou hast borne 
Upon thy bosom, heaving as with might; 

How often hast thou hurled them crushed and torn. 
To perish on the rocks in awful plight. 

How short is mortal life compared to thine; 

How many generations from their goal 
Have reached their growth and suffered their decline, 

Since first thy waves began their ceaseless roll. 

Roll on with rumbling roar, O mighty deep! 

In all your mnjesty and power great; 
While to eternity the ages sweep. 

Still ihou Shalt roll in all thy boundless state. 



102 Woife. 

I WOLFE. 

— X — 
Like a hero he stood with liis sword raised on high. 

And his voice ringing loud o'er the battle's deep roar, 
While the gleam of defiance flashed forth from his eye, 
As his army to vi6tory boldly he bore. 

Fierce the clash of the steel, fierce awd deadly the blow, 
As the sabres shone crimson with torrents of blood: 

Fierce and hot the encounter, as foe met with foe. 
But still like a hero he dauntlessly stood. 

Well he knew, as he fought in the battle's red heat. 

That all fame is a worthless reward for the brave; 
For his lips that immortal verse fain would repeat, 

That the pathways of glory lead but to the grave. 

But 'twas duty impelled him to take up the sword 
In defense of his country when sore was her need, 

And 'twas thus for her honor he valiantly warred, 
And 'twas thus for her sake he did suffer and bleed. 

Like a hero he fell in the tumult of strife, 
When the bellowing cannon, with thunderous boom. 

Breathed its havoc and deadly destru6lion to life, 
Like a horrible key note of terror and doom. 

Noble Wolfe! Rest forever in silence and peace. 
For thy memory shall ever be sacredly kept; 

Time can never thine honor and glory decrease; 
All the tears shed for thee have been worthily wept. 



A Serenade. IOC 



A SERENADE. 
— X — 

lady fair! my song I tune to thee: 

List to its tender pleading, love, I pray; 
Let not its burden, deep-impassioned, be 
Upon the night-wind heedless borne away. 

1 call, sweet love, oh, answer thou my sighs! 

Come wander down beside the limpid lake 
That at the base of yonder mountain lies; 
Oh, answer, love, why dost thou not awake? 

Dim night hath thrown her shade-embroidered cloak, 
Incrusted with a million gleaming stars, 

About the earth, and list! it doth invoke 
The nightingale to sound his silvery bars. 

The moon in all her regal splendor beams. 
Throned in the lucent circle of her light, 

To guide the world, plunged in its maze of dreams, 
Throughout the mystic realm of dusky night. 

The rose is breathing in its native vales, 

And from its crimson bosom, gemmed with dew. 

An odor rich and ravishing exhales, 

That with its sweetness doth the breezes woo. 

The stately lily in its beauty white, 

Beside the hyacinth and tulip blooms. 
Wherewith the tuberose joins to fill the night 

With deep, voluptuous and rare perfumes. 



104- Phases of a Night. 

All Nature seems to whisper words of love, 
To call thee from thy couch of snc»wy lace: 

And e'en the flutter of a restless dove, 
Seems born of longing to behold thy face! 

Then let not subtle slumber fly with thee 
Unto the dream-bound world of visions bright; 

But, gentle lady, let thy presence be 
The brightest star in all the realm of night. 



PHASES OF A NIGHT. 



'Twas almost midnight: o'er the. mountains hung 
A sable crown of clouds, whose circling forn^. 

A sheet of rain in torrents downward flung 
Upon the lands encompassed by the storm. 

The angry wind, in harsh, discordant tones, 
Raged with the grandeur of its giant force; 

O'erthrowing kingly oaks from forest thrones, 
And wrecking all that dared oppose its course. 

Oppressive gloom, in melancholy state. 
Like some dark majesty of regions drear. 

In conquest held the kingdom where so late. 
The sun in glory crimson did appear. 

Not one faint glimmer of celestial light, 
Gleamed through the dread immensity of space: 

Not one small star shone on the crest of night, 
Nor blazed upon the heaven's dusky face 



Phases of a Night. 105 

When, lo! as though by touch divine, the clouds 
Were burst asunder, and the restless wind 

Caught up the fragments, massed in sable crowds, 
And swept out into regions unconfined. 

Then what a vision spread before the gaze! 

Tlie vast blue dome of heaven glorified! 
A million stars flashed in a brilliant maze 

That night's dark wing was powerless to hide! 

And sloping down unto her western bed, 
The blood-red moon, in splendor, regal, round, 

Upon the scene her dying glory shed, 

And with her lustrous light the hill-tops crowned. 

The dripping trees, all glistening with rain, 
Incrusted seemed with gems of dazzling light. 

Wherein the rire-flies wrought a golden chain, 
Framed by the ebon coloring of night. 

And thri)ugh the dreamy hush that softly fell 

Upon the dying echoes of the blast, 
The night-bird's song was heard to sweetly swell, 

As though rejoicing that the storm was past. 



WINTER 
— X — 
Ye forests old, majestic, wild and deep! 

Your trees their branches cold and bare upraise; 
Your densest haunt where hart and roebuck sleep. 
Is but a leafless, grim and tangled maze. 



106 Winter. 

Your scarlet robes embroidered rich with gold, 
Wherein the Autumn clothed ye in such state. 
The raging blasts of Winter fierce and cold, 
Have torn away to leave ye desolate. 

Lol all the meadows are bereft of green; 

Not one small flower wild and crowned with dew, 
Uplifts its head to beautify the scene, 

Stern death its fatal course doth here pursue. 

The barren hills loom through the distant haze, 
That morning wraps around their lofty peaks, 

Lo! one high top with glory meets tlie gaze, 
Its snow-crown crimson with the sunlight streaks. 

I pause beside some lone sequestered glade. 
In hopes of hearing birds in floods of song, 

But all is hushed and still; no sound is made; 
For southward have the songsters sped along. 

Yet, though the Summer's beauty all hath flown. 
Still Nature's soul of grandeur doth remain; 

The glory now departed from her throne 

Doth but enhance the greatness of her reign. 

Still doth she rule in majesty and state, 
Like some eternal queen of beauty rare, 

Who from the raging storms of adverse fate. 
Comes forth in beauty, ravishing and fair. 



Retributicn. 107 

RETRIBUTION. 

Oh, how often in the twihght, as tlie evening shadows grew 
Into shapes and forms fantastic, like a shadowland review; 

Creeping over yonder mountain, as it towered into space, 
Till its rigid outUne trembled in a shadowy embrace. 

Have I lingered on the hike shore, by the side of gentle 

Ruth, 
While my heart was wildly throbbing with the passion of 

my youth, 

Speaking words of deep expression, audible to us alone. 
Save the wind as it repeated them with soft aeolian tone; 

And how often in the evening, as the moon — that lucent 

orb- 
Sought with beams of silvery beauty every shadow to 

absorb, 

Would she sit at yonder casement, 'neath its arch of ivy 

green. 
Gazing with her dreamy eyes upon the bright celestial 

queen. 

Ah, the memories of those moments stir my soul and heat 

my blood, 
Coming o'er my troubled spirit in a great o'ervvhelming 

flood. 

All is gone, and gone forever, naught but vain regret 
remains; 

While a deed of dark and bitter wrong my soul and con- 
science stains. 

It was jealousy the a(5lion prompted, jealousy of Ruth: 
O how evil is tlve impulse that doth govern thoughtless 
youth. 



108 Retribution. 

'Twas my friend, my dearest friend, alas! my rival proved 

to be. 
Yet, how could he help from loving one so fair and pure as 

she? 

Ah, 'twas so indeed, in jealous rage, O curse the luckless 

dayl 
My best friend, but yet my rival, in mine anger did I slay; 

Then in fear of retribution, from my home I straightway 

fled, 
Till my long and lengthened absence l»d my friends to 

think me dead. 

Would 'twere so, for after many weary years I now return 
But to find those things forever gone for which my soul 
doth yearn. 

Here hath death, with all its dread and sombre doom per- 
formed its end, 
Scarcely leaving in its pathway one familiar face or friend; 

She is dead for whom I ruined life, how poignant is my 

grief ! 
Nothing do I find but torture where I turn to seek relief. 

What a world is this we live in, what a luckless state to 

gain: 
Paying for a single adion with a life of bitter pain. 

How 1 dread to meet the future, that resistless in its 

course, 
Nothing holds for me but sorrow and the burden of remorse. 



Rose. t09 



ROSE. 

The setting sun, resplendent to beliold, 
With all its wondrous glory, red and gold. 

Had westward o'er the Rocky Mountains passed, 
Whose shadow grim, gigantic, outward cast. 
Lay on the prairie like the wing of night. 
Preparing to invade the realm of lii;lit, 

As through a stream whose winding waters lay, 
Bright with the dying splendor of tlie day, 
My gallant charger plunged and safely bore 
His eager master to the western shore. 

Oh. how I longed to reach the fort that lay 
Still distant veiled in shadows gathering gray: 
Oh, iiow I longed, as swiftly on I pressed, 
To clasp once more unto my throbbing breast 
My darling Rose! the colonel's daughter, she 
Had sworn some joyous day my wife to be; 
Sworn with those vows that love alone can form. 
That from the heart come leaping, tender, warm, 
To meet responses fraught with deepest joy. 
But which, a word, alas, may soon destroy. 
In anger had we parted on that morn; 
I vexed and stern; she flushed with haughty scorn: 
'Twas all my fault; I bade her not to ride 
A vicious mustang she had never tried, 
And she in answer tossed her golden head, 
Her blue eyes flashing as she proudly said, 
"I were unfitted for a soldier's bride, 
If any pony I should fear to ride." 
Whereat, with lover-like solicitude, 
My mind became with greater fear imbued; 
My anxious heart to dangers new awoke. 
And in a stern, commanding way I spoke, 
Till she. with angry words and haughty mien. 
Swept from my presence like an injured queen: 



no 



Yet, as she turned away, a burning tear 
I saw upon her crimson cheek appear; 
My heart gave one deep throb of bitter pain. 
But in this life how oft regret is vain, 
For as I turned to follow her and seek 
To woo the flusii of anger from her cheek, 
And for my sins a thousand pardons pray, 
A soldier's duty ordered me away: 
So in my breast I stifled back a sigh, 
And called my horse that stood impatient by, 
Then with my heart torn by emotion's sway, 
In duty's stern behalf I rode away. 
Oh, what a day of misery I spent, 
With all my tortured feelings inward pent; 
Yet onward o'er the plains I swiftly sped, 
Although my wounded heart in anguish bled; 
And now, as homeward eagerly I pressed, 
I could not of its gloom my soul divest; 
But soon, I thought, such feelings would be o'er. 
When to my heart I'd clasp my love once more; 
Wiien her soft eyes, with love-light all aglow. 
Would with her soul's emotions overflow. 
Until with lips we sealed in mortal bliss, 
Our reconciliation with a kiss. 
Now through the shadows of impending night, 
I saw the fort just looming into sight; 
A minute more, and at the fortress gate, 
I checked my steed, its opening to wait: 
Yet, ere I gave the signal to the guard, 
Lo! I beheld the entrance was unbarred! 
Unbarred and broken, and no sentry's word 
Gave token my arrival had been heard: 
Dismounting, in I passed with hasty tread; 
My bosom rilled with anxious fear and dread. 
O horror! what a grim and ghastly sight 
Arose like some wild phantasy of night! 
A scene of death I scarce could realize; 
My comrades there lay dead before my eyes: 



Rose. 



They wiio so lusty seemed upon the morn 
For nauj^lit but viy^or and for adion born, 
Now lay before me nevermore to rise, 
With gaping wounds and wildly staring eyes. 
O God I how strange it seems that things so drear 
Must burst the mortal heart with grim despair. 

But Rose! the thought flashed through my heated brain 
With one mad sweep of torture and of pain: 
Oh. heaven! wliat has been her fate? I groaned: 
The wind as though in answer sobbed and moaned: 
I feared to think, lest I perchance should see 
A fate far worse than death could ever be; 
I knew the Indian her life would spare 
But that he might the maid to bondage bear. 
My tortured heart beat with a heavy throb, 
And from my breast arose a bitter sob. 
I searched in desperation of despair 
Among the forms ihat lay so silent there; 
r>ut all my anxious efforts were for naught; 
I found no trace of her for whom I sought. 
The moon had risen and beneath its light, 
I found the trail that marked the Indians' flight: 
Half-mad. I turned, the wretches to pursue, 
When something on the ramparts caught my view: 
A fair, white form, crowned with a mass of gold! 
My heart with new born fear grew dull and cold: 
With hasty strides I mounted to the place. 
And with dear Rose I stood there face to face: 
.She saw me not, no welcome word expressed; 
A gliastly bullet wound was in her breast! 

And 'neath the flag whose folds tlie breezes swelled, 
Her form in rigid beauty was upheld 
By cruel cords wherewith she had been bound 
Unto the staff: such was the wreck I found. 
My brain with agonized pulsations beat, 
And there I fell heart broken at her feet. 



"2 Death. 

DEATH. 

Death! g^Ioomy messenger of mort;il doom. 
Inevitable destiny of man: 
Monarch of monarchs, ruler of all thrones! 
Wide as the universe is thy domain; 
Thy prestige is eternal and complete; 
Thou bane of life, thou art thyself imbued 
With an existence endless as thy woes: 
Where there is life and being thou wilt reign 
The paramount transgressor of their laws, 
While Evolution, with its wondrous sway, 
Builds up a slage whereon thou canst perform. 
With what an innate fear and common dread 
Doth every being gaze upon thy face. 
Stamped, as it is, with all its hated gloom. 
Oh, dread and cold are thine embracing arms, 
As, circling round the heart with icy clasp, 
They cause the life-blood to its adlion cease. 
Until the spirit and the body part. 
But whither dost thou lead— what spirit worlds, 
(Reared in the splendor of aerial state. 
With burning stars beneath their vast expanse 
To form a fitting base for majesty,) 
Doth thy dark shades unpromising conceal. 
To shield their glories from the mortal eye? 
What is the mission, mystical and dread, 
Thou dost fulfil to such a dreary end? 
Black-crested monarch from a distant world. 
Give but a prescience of the fate unknown 
To which thou leadest disembodied souls 
Veiled in thy somber, yet majestic shade. 
Beyond the portals of mortality. 
O Death! I prithee, but for once relent, 
A'ld deign to vest thy silent self with voice, 
And with prophetic trueness speak to me. 
Unto what state dost thou an entrance give? 
Is there a world, ethereal and bright, 



A Violet. nS 

Where joyous angels, snow y-piiiioned, wait 

To swing tiie silver gates of endless day. 

And usher in the pure, ambitious soul 

Amidst a halo of magnificence, 

To dream in mazes of eternal bliss? 

Or. is it all a dream— a vacant dream, 

Where a'l is lost , and lost forever more? 

Without existence, without hope or love, 

Without emotion, be it joy or pain, 

Without a mind where thought can have ils range, 

Without a spirit, passionate or calm— 

Oh, poignant is the thought— without a soul! 

But nay, when on the mighty universe 

J turn my gaze, and wonder fills my brain, 

As I review the grandeur of the work, 

The mass of life and vital force involved. 

Imagination 'neath the burden bends. 

And every faculty amazed proclaims. 

Such great creations cannot come to naught! 



A VIOLET. 
— X — 

IJeside a lucid stream whose murmur seems 
Like music flowing from an unknown tongue, 

Wooed by the wind into asolian themes. 

Whose strains, for countless ages have been sung; 

There is a mossy bank, whose verdant crest 
Is grown with richest flowers, dark and rare; 

And here a violet— queen of the rest- 
Waves in the soft, aroma-freighted air. 

Wiien day emerges from the shades of night. 
It lifts its head, aglow with sparkling dew. 

To drink the warm, invigorating light; 
Unfolding petals of the richest blue: 



114 The Lake. 

When nigiil appears, in shadows all arrayed, 

To put fair day unto a gloomy end, 
This tender flower, lilte a frightened maid, 

Doth on its mother—earth— for strength depend: 
And this sweet gift of Nature's charming grace, 

Fain would I tender to a maiden fair. 
And bid her in its loveliness to trace 

The deep refledion of her beauty rare. 



THE LAKE. 
— X — 
Fair, crystal lake, embraced by mountains high, 
Thou art the bed in which the fairies dream — 
The mirror that refleds the changing sky, 

And paints in beauty rare the lightning's gleam. 
The sun converts thee to a sheet of gold, 

In which the bending trees their leaves inlay, 
Like emeralds set in a shining mould. 

And o'er thy bosom breezes softly play: 
When night approaches with her dusky shroud, 

Enveloping the earth in mystic gloom. 
The pallid moon breaks through some fleecy cloud, 
While thou a cloak of silver dost assume. 
The distant stars kiss thee with mellow light. 
And crown thee as with jewels, sparkling, bright. 



The New Year. 115 

A WISH. 
— X — 

Would that some airy, gauzy-pinioned sprite, 
With rosebud lips and deepest violet eyes, 

Would, for a season, grant the mystic right, 
Her powers magical to exercise. 

Then, from the fairy kingdom I would steal 

A galaxy of softest shades and hues, 
Implore the Queen her wonders to reveal, 

And with her mystic spirit all infuse. 

Then, with some fairy painter's brush of art, 

Invested with a power, potent, rare, 
I'd seek the inspiration from my heart. 
And paint thee, love, in all thy beauty fair. 



THE NEW YEAR. 
— X — 

In deep and mournful tones the midnight bell 
Bids to the dying year a sad farewell. 

Which leaves the earth in Time's unceasing care, 
And on the pinions of the fitful blast. 
Flies to tlie annals of the lifeless past. 

Though none its still departure see or hear; 
And while the trembling echoes of the bell 
Upon the night in wild cadences swell. 

In tuneful combat with the restless winds, 
Another year is born, and all the earth 
With joyous chimes doth welcome in its birth, 

And mankind for his loss a solace finds. 
Though with the old year we are loth to part, 
We greet the New Year with a joyous heart. 



116 Reality. 

REALITY. 
— X — 

We dream; and paint thought-pidures fair and sweet, 
And in conception have our joys complete: 
O'er pleasures muse, imagination-wrought, 
Where hopes exist with rapture, beauty, fraught; 
But ahl when time tlie consummation brings, 
W'e find that fancy soars on ideal wings, 
Whose flight reality cannot pursue, 
But brings our frailties into clearer view: 
Our souls our mortal impotence deplore 
With clamors wild, but what can we do more? 



FINIS. 



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